


wanna teach you a lesson in the worst kind of way

by callmearcturus



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Collars, F/M, Found Families, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-04
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-10 08:54:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 68,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/784192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmearcturus/pseuds/callmearcturus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you get right down to it, Gavin Free is in the midst of the world’s longest trust fall. (long, ridiculous leash fic. part two posted, now complete!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. wanna teach you a lesson in the worst kind of way

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah, this... got out of control. Like, 20K words out of control. And that's just part one. Part two already in the works.
> 
> Thanks to Gamble, Cass, and Emily for the help, suggestions, cheering, and putting up with my author diva bullshit. Bless your hearts.
> 
> Oh, and a note: Millie doesn't exist in this universe solely because I have Weird But Stern Opinions about the age of consent and its influence on who we should depict in RPF. Roll with it.
> 
> And I apologies for the timeline hijinks. I'd say I tried but that'd be a filthy lie.

When they start, they’re doing it because it’s for Gavin’s own good.

They pull that card with Gavin a lot, even when it’s not actually for his own good. The Edward Forty-Hands thing came from Griffon and Geoff knowing deep in their hearts that Gavin’s life was missing a vital formative event, an event that required Gavin to let his hosts tape giant bevs to his hands. That time Gavin spent the night sleeping on the couch in the haunted Rooster Teeth office was also for his own good, though Gavin couldn’t remember the justification for that one. (The pictures Geoff had in his blackmail folder, taken when Griffon showed up in the most horrifying realistic ghoul costume at 3:30 AM, were admittedly pretty great.) Before she turned on the camera, Griffon told him that his life would be richer for having run around like a bloody idiot in the Austin lightning storm.

That one was completely true, he had to admit. He could still feel the rain running down through his hair, how it was the coldest thing in the state of Texas, the way he felt like the electricity was in the air and in his skin.

Basically, the Ramseys had never steered him wrong. They may have steered him haphazardly and towards what was most entertaining, but in the end, Gavin could not fault them that.

From the first time he dropped his luggage onto the bed of the spare room they gave him (years ago when he was eight thousand kilometers from home and terrified and excited and wondering why these people thought he was worth their hospitality, wondering how weekly games of Grifball with Geoffrey Ramsey turned into a visa and a  _one-way_  ticket to America)

 and onward (through terrible 20-ingredient cocktails, and wrestling matches, and marathon editing sessions, and marathon Die Hard popcorn nights, and sudden stabbing pangs of homesickness drowned in equal parts alcohol and arcade game tournaments)

Gavin has been in the midst of the world’s longest trust fall.

* * *

It was the summer of 2009 and Gavin didn’t know how this was his life. If he were the type to believe in resurrection or any of that rot, he’d say that in his last life he was a professional kitten rescuer. Maybe he built orphanages as a night gig too.

It would have to be something like that. It was the only thing that made sense of the course his life had taken. He still remembered being the kid who downloaded every .mov file of  _Red vs Blue_  back in season one (before anyone had any idea there would be seasons). That person felt like someone else entirely, shrugged off like a cheap jacket and left back in England to sit forgotten on the bottom of a closet.

There was no point dwelling on that. Gavin Free,  _Halo  _Enthusiast Tosser wasn't the one trawling his way through the Ramseys' backyard, a bottle of some Austin microbrew in hand, high on life and the atmosphere. Gavin Free, Actual Fucking Director of  _Red vs Blue_  Thank You Very Much was attending the party, surrounded by Rooster Teeth employees and their families. AC/DC played in the background on the sound system, just barely too loud; the speakers kept going tinny with the effort to keep up with the music’s volume. Mostly, Gavin was walking circuits around Gus, who was at his laptop, periodically reporting stream and download numbers.

“Another ten thousand.” Gus informed Gavin. “Low period, about seven.” Then, “Spiking up to almost thirty.” And, “Oh, shit, I need to do a remote server restart.”

Burnie smiled at Gavin. “Sounds like the episode is fucking our servers’ mouths. Nice job, Gavino.”

Gavin felt  _incandescent_.  “Ah, well. Takes a village, all that.”

“So do you. Now stop hovering around Gus and go bother someone else.”

Sticking his tongue out at Burnie wasn’t precisely professional, especially considering he was now Gavin Free, Director of  _Red vs Blue_  Which Was Pulling Ridiculous Hits Already, but he did it anyway. It was a good night. He felt wrapped up in the warmth of the summer night, drawing pinprick beads of sweat over his skin, sent sizzling from the electric embrace of a receptive audience.

He was probably drunk. But it was a good drunk. It was the best drunk.

Geoff would likely disagree, given how Gavin practically leapt onto him the moment he found him. “Geoff.  _Geoffrey Lazer Ramsey_.  Dee-Geoff,” Gavin said, making sure Geoff knew his name and gamertag.

“Gavin, shit.” Geoff scrambled to get a hold of Gavin before he fell to the ground. “Did Burnie dump your ass on me?”

“Not specifically, but yanno. Probably by design, right?” Gavin beamed at Geoff. “We should do something to celebrate.”

It took bodily lifting the younger man, but Geoff managed to hook his arms around Gavin, holding him upright. “What are we celebrating?”

“Don’t be an arsehole.”

“Fine, let’s celebrate by going into town and popping your tattoo cherry.” Gavin went ragdoll, forcing Geoff to drop him, then tried to scramble away. “Oh, come on! I’d pay for it!”

“No thanks!” Gavin bounced away. “Oh, I know, let’s climb on the roof again! I’ve got one of my cameras, not the  _really  _good ones, obviously, but maybe up for twenty-five hundred frames?”

He was already halfway into the house when he was seized around the middle and pulled to a stop. “Gavin, Gavin.”

Geoff apparently didn’t understand that Gavin was on top of the world, was full to bursting with energy, needed to do  _something_.  When Gavin tried to wriggle away, Geoff didn’t let him get far. “Geoff, come on.”

“I am not sober enough to make the jump into the pool and not drunk enough to let you go alone, kid.”

Gavin made a low, annoyed whine. “I  _am  _an adult, you know.”

“You are the same dipshit twink that Burnie imported in the first place. If I let you put yourself in the hospital, he’ll never forgive me.” Geoff slung a heavy arm around Gavin’s shoulders and walked him back outside. “Let’s get you another drink, hotshot.”

The evening wore on with Gavin pressed against Geoff’s side. He was considerate enough to keep Gavin fed on beers and hot dogs, but flatly refused to let Gavin out of his sight. It probably had something to do with how Gavin kept staring at the roof. And trying to sneak away to get to the roof. And peering through the pretend viewfinder he formed with his hands, lining up the perfect roof-to-pool slow motion shot.

It was getting dark and Griffon was going around lighting tiki torches and lamps across the yard when Geoff caught Gavin in his latest attempt to weasel away. “‘Scuse us a sec,” he said before grabbing Gavin by the back of his shirt and hauling him back into the house.

Gavin gasped, excited. “Ooooh, are you drunk enough now?”

“I am drunk enough that I’m thinking of places to hide your dead body.”

“Dead body from when I jump into the pool from the roof?” As long as someone caught it on video, Gavin was fairly alright with that. He’d taught Dan enough about the process that he’d be able to make something good out of the footage.

“Are you  _still  _on that? Fucking Christ, we should put you on a... hang on.”

Geoff’s drunk ideas were usually worth sticking around for, so Gavin waited when Geoff left him even if he could still feel the roof calling him. It wasn’t a long wait; Geoff returned with something behind his back. Before Gavin could ask, he was yanked forward, almost right into Geoff’s gleeful grin. He could hear the man’s snicker as he worked.

“Now that is a good look on you,” Geoff proclaimed, taking a step away. With him went a metal chain lead, stretching from his hand up to Gavin’s neck.

Gavin caught his reflection in a window. Geoff had looped a leash around him, clipping it onto itself to form a collar. “Uh.”

Geoff wasn’t waiting to explain himself. He headed back outside. The chain around Gavin’s neck lost its slack and he squawked once in surprised indignation before jogging to catch up. “G-Geoff!”

“Keep up, Gavvy,” Geoff said cheerfully. “Hot damn, I’m a fucking genius.”

Part of it was that Gavin shouldn’t have had the last two beers he’d been given. Part of it was just how strange the situation was. In all, he didn’t do the obvious, unclip the leash and duck away. He stood near Geoff’s elbow as he rejoined the conversation, talking about some upcoming releases. Gavin barely heard it, his fingers tangling in the long metal links hanging from his neck and frowning, perplexed.

He let the chain thread through his fingers for a long while. When Griffon made her way over, the next time Gavin looked up, the party was winding down. People were leaving or calling rides and the grill was doused, white smoke pluming up into the moonlight.

Griffon took in the state Gavin was in before looking to her husband. “Geoff.”

Geoff grinned. “Yeah?”

She opened her mouth, then shut it, shaking her head, blonde ponytails swinging. “Make sure everyone gets home all right or at least gets a decent place to sleep.”

“Ma’am,” Geoff said and handed the leash to her, bending to kiss her cheek as he did.

Gavin turned wide eyes to Griffon as Geoff made his way back inside. She met his gaze evenly, grip on the leash light.

“You okay there, sweetie?”

Gavin thought about it, then nodded. He looked down again. “Yeah.”

“You’ve been quiet a while. You sure?”

“Yeah. Just...” Gavin rubbed his face. “Long night.”

“But a nice one, I hear. You did a good job.”

His eyes snapped back to her. “I what?”

“The video. Gus said we’re still getting a lot of hits on it.” She reached out and smoothed down his hair. He bowed his head slightly as she did, looking at her toes in the grass. “Come here.” She tugged on the lead just enough for him to feel it.

Gavin followed her to the porch. She sat on the rough wooden stairs and Gavin folded up on the ground next to her. He heard her inhale, about to say something, and the air was tense for a moment...

But it passed, popping like a soap bubble. Gavin relaxed as it did, back against the porch and Griffon’s leg. That garnered a chuckle from her. “You look like you need to sleep for a week.”

“Mhm.”

Her hand was warmer than the summer air when it landed on his shoulder. With a nudge, he tipped against her thigh, cheek pressed to the top of her jeans. It was comfortable, somehow distant through the barriers of the late hour, the party, all the drink. He shut his eyes, weary but pleased.

He might’ve dozed for a while. It was even later in the night when Geoff came to collect him, hauling him to his bedroom. Gavin let himself be deposited on the bed, still sleepy-calm. “You are going to have a monster hangover tomorrow,” Geoff told him.

Gavin nodded, yawning.

“Well, night then. Oh, hang on.” There was a tug, and the metal around his neck slide down and away. “That was... fun, right?”

Gavin blinked owlishly, looking up at Geoff. “What?”

“The -- nevermind.” His hair was ruffled, undoing all of Griffon’s smoothing. “Sleep.”

He didn’t need more convincing than that.

* * *

It didn’t cross his mind again for a while. It was a hectic time of his life, with all the work he was juggling. There were even jobs back home he had to prepare for, looming in the distance like stressful spectres of doom. Things felt easier in America, even if he didn’t have his own place and was essentially at the mercy of Rooster Teeth.

From Monday to Friday, his mind was on work. Footage had to be shot and Geoff often kidnapped Gavin into his and Jack’s side project. Which was fine. It was relaxing in comparison to lining up shots and syncing up audio to footage and sorting through video files to piece things together. The Achievement Hunter office was slightly cramped between the three of them and it took some creative cooperation and scheduling to make recording possible, but he enjoyed it.

The amount of time he spent in Geoff’s company was slightly ridiculous, but luckily for them both, Geoff was also one of the few people in Gavin’s life with whom he could shut up and spend time in comfortable silence with.

It’d been such quiet as he read over a script for half the drive back to the Ramsey house until Geoff said, “By the way, company tonight.”

Gavin looked over at him. “Anything going on?”

“Just the usual. Drinks and snacks. Peggle. Slow corruption of English boys.”

“Slow,” Gavin repeated with a snort.

“Complaining?”

“Nah.”

“Good.” Geoff flipped the turn signal on. “Lets go pick up some bevs.”

There were indeed bevs, along with the promised snacks. Then there were more bevs and Peggle. All and all, it went according to plan.

Mostly. But Gavin was good at making plans go accordingly, against all expectations. So he collected a few more bevs (rule of three, it was a thing, right?) and went to get the last thing taken care of.

He waited until Griffon and Geoff were busy, then set the sound system to the most embarrassing shit he could find on Geoff’s iPod (Taylor Swift got the biggest laugh). He showed the first woman at the party to give him more than a moment’s attention his phone, where he kept the Slow Mo Guys video that YouTube wouldn’t let him post (which was bullshit, that was a penis for science, not for porn, honestly). And when Geoff went looking for Gavin, Gavin hid under the closest table.

Which didn’t work very well. “Hey, drunky, you should’ve picked a table with a fucking tablecloth,” Geoff said with great wisdom as he pulled Gavin out by his ankle.

“Thaaaat.... may be so. Or  _maybe  _I wanted you to find me!” Gavin tapped the side of his nose, managing to avoid poking himself in the eye.

“Oh god, it’s forties-in-the-freezer all over again.” Geoff bent down and pulled Gavin to his feet, stumbling a bit himself as he did; Geoff could play sober like a seasoned pro, but Gavin knew his tells by now. “Time for Gavin to go to bed.”

“What, no! Nooooo,” Gavin whinged, even as Geoff lead him away. “You aren’t done, you didn’t do the thing!”

“What thing? Gavin, let go.” Geoff started to pry Gavin’s hand off the door jam he managed to catch.

“Corruption of the... me. Corrupting me.” Gavin watched Geoff pull at his fingers, waiting, then grabbed the frame again with his other hand the moment Geoff succeeded.

“I’m playing host.”

“You were playing host to me  _first_.”

“Oh my god, you are pouting. Stop it.” Gavin, feeling contrary, just pouted with more gusto. Geoff flicked his lower lip. “Put that away before I let Griffon pierce it.”

Gavin did as he was told, but kept his hand on the door. “I’ll calm down, lemme go back.”

“Oh, we are past that point, little asshole.” With a shove, Geoff pushed Gavin into the room he was hanging onto instead of dragging him away. It was enough to nearly send Gavin falling to the floor. He managed to catch himself against the bed before completely losing his balance at least.

Settling on the edge of it, Gavin looked around. It was Geoff and Griffon’s room and he hadn’t seen it before, not like this. It was somewhat disappointing. The closet’s door was ajar, showing Griffon’s shirts, not the collection of chainsaws Gavin hoped for. There was also no full-size Spartan armor replica. It was just a bed, the expected furniture, and some interesting art on the walls.

After taking it in, Gavin refixed his attention on Geoff. “So, what then? Going to send me to my room? I’ll just sneak back out,” he singsonged.

Geoff sighed, and it was finally starting to edge towards genuine frustration. That drew a mischievous grin from Gavin. “Did you just decide to be ornery tonight?”

“What’re you going to do about it, eh? Break out the leash again?”

“The...” A flash of complete bewilderment crossed his face for a moment, but it cleared as he remembered. “Seriously?”

Gavin shrugged one shoulder. “Just a suggestion.”

Geoff gaped for a moment. “Oh fuck, we  _are_ corrupting English boys. Hang on.” Gavin, with undue dramatics, dug his heels in and gripped the comforter in both fists. When he noticed, Geoff snorted, shaking his head. “Assuming the position?”

Gavin gave him a guileless stare. “You assume this position? And Griffon’s keen on that?”

“Shut up.” He was smirking as he lay a familiar length of chain across Gavin’s lap. “Fuck, you are going to fall and choke yourself...” As a solution, he clipped the thing directly to Gavin’s shirt, forgoing the loop around the neck. His hand caught Gavin’s arm, and Gavin realized he’d tipped his head back helpfully and almost fell over.

“‘M good,” he reassured Geoff, giving him a thumbs up.

“You...” A soft chuckle accompanied Geoff’s hands threading the leash through the headboard, so loosely even the slightest effort would’ve pulled it free. “If you’re here for three whole minutes, I’ll be fucking stunned.”

“I’ll be good!”

“Uh huh.”

“I will!”

“I believe you.”

Gavin really didn’t think Geoff did believe him. It wasn’t fair to be judged so quickly. Gavin felt he deserved some more credit. If Geoff didn’t agree, then he’d learn.

Left alone in the room, Gavin started counting to sixty thrice. That was a monumental task. He pulled his feet up on the bed and tried to use his fingers and toes, but kept getting distracted by things like the loose threads of the comforter or the mark in the headboard (it could’ve been a notch, but possibly not). Three minutes must’ve passed, which mean Gavin won. He could go and rub it in Geoff’s face.

But when he moved, the leash tugged, making him freeze. He looked, saw the lead was still barely wrapped around the post.

Trying to move gingerly, Gavin laid down. The ceiling was something new to look at, and this way he wasn’t about to turn himself loose. That was nice. He could just lay down and listen to the muffled music from the other room, dulled by the walls and the conversation going on, making it a challenge to guess what song was playing.

When Geoff came back, it was much quieter. The man peered into the room, frowning. “Gavin?”

Gavin turned his head to face Geoff, blinking owlishly.

“You’re... still here.”

“Yeah? Longer than three minutes, right?”

Geoff’s brow furrowed. “Uh, yeah. You were waiting?”

Gavin shrugged. He supposed he had been.

There was a minute of silence from Geoff, who crossed the room to look down at Gavin. Out of it as he was, Gavin wasn’t sure what the expression on Geoff’s face was supposed to be. But the funny curve of his lips was encouraging.

“Okay. You can come out if you’re good.”

Gavin sat up, nodding. “Top. I need a glass of water anyway.”

Geoff smiled, putting a hand on Gavin's shoulder. "Let's get you one, buddy."

* * *

The third time, it wasn’t because Gavin had gotten a bit smashed or decided to be “ornery” or anything of the sort.

It’s just that there was a plane ticket printed out, stuck to the fridge with a magnet, right at eye level so Gavin had to look at the bloody thing every time he went for an apple or a drink or whatever. It was harbinger of a reset to his life; soon he would be back to what was ostensibly his home country.  He’d be behind the Phantom and working.

He liked slow motion cinematography. It was still his first love and would always be his greatest passion. And given the dearth of slow motion camera-people in the UK, it was fairly lucrative work that was always needed.

Everything pointed to this being a working vacation. He’d be away from Austin’s blistering heat. He’d get to go back to his own bed. He’d not have to worry about Jack and his mood swings. He wouldn’t be handed a drive full of footage and audio to work into something publishable. He’d see Dan. And Lloyd. He missed them. Well, he missed Lloyd.

He’d be back. It’d be a few months, but he’d return before voice work for the next season started. Things were never in a lull at Rooster Teeth, but the tasks usually delegated to him would wait for him.

Gavin looked at his packed suitcases on the bed and thought about how fucking barren the guest room looked without his clutter in it. It looked like a fucking hotel room. It didn’t feel like a part of the Ramsey house without him and his crap in it.

The telly was on in the other room. Gavin sighed and padded barefoot down the hall, because as much as he wanted to have a good sulk in his (borrowed, soon to be returned) room, that was more pathetic than he could stand, even from himself.

His flight wasn’t until noon tomorrow. He could pull out a decent shirt from his packing and give Austin one more hurrah. Gavin habitually used alcohol to have a good time, not to drown a bad mood, but these were unusual circumstances.

His luck would  _of fucking course_  have it that Geoff had the car and was out on an errand when Gavin went to ask. Gavin could feel his face folding into something bitter and mean, and he quickly excused himself to the back yard.

Griffon, because she was a decent person, damn her, followed. “Gavin? Hey, sweetie, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” Gavin said curtly, aware that he was glaring into the middle distance with his fists in his pockets.

She stepped up to him and looked him over. “Clearly,” she said, droll and dry.

“Griffon, I...” His lips pressed together and he exhaled hard through his nose.

“Gavin, I’m not one to tell you your business, you know that.” Her hand touched his arm, and he couldn’t squash the tension that lanced through him. “But I can count on one hand the times I’ve seen you actually upset, and it leaves an impression.”

He huffed. So he added another mark to her tally. Fantastic. What a way to spend his last day with the Ramseys.

“So you don’t want to talk.” He shook his head. “Don’t want to or can’t?”

He looked up at her face. She smiled.

“Gotcha.” Her hand on him tightened. “Is it because it’s me? Geoff’ll be back soon--”

“No! No, no!” God, he was a complete sack of shit. He knew that, but the reminders still hurt. “You are... great. Absolutely great and I would but it’s...” He waved a hand at his own chest, where everything felt tense and painful.

She held him off with a hand. “All right.”

“It’s not!” He winced and scrubbed a hand over his face. “This is the last time I’m gonna have a night in with you guys and it shouldn’t be like this, all right?”

Griffon -- laughed. It was one quick bark of a laugh and she covered her mouth, hiding her smile the moment it appeared, but it was a laugh. “Gavin, sweetie. You are a very bright, talented young man. But you are sometimes an idiot.” She punched his arm. “Put that look away. It’s just that... you’re coming  _back_ , you know.”

Gavin looked aside, wanting to hide the worried expression on his face.

“Oh, sweetie. That’s it. I’m done!” She twined her fingers through his and pulled him back inside. “We’re going to try something, okay?”

“Uh. Okay?” Griffon was smaller than him, but the woman had arms like a comic book hero and knew how to haul around people who were bigger than her.

“Technically, I’m supposed to wait until Geoff’s here because neither of us have any illusions about the fact that he is your security blanket--” Gavin tried to say something to that, but words tangled in his mouth and tripped out unintelligible, “-- but this is something we discussed.” She pulled him into the kitchen and started to sort through the drawers, searching for something with one hand while she held Gavin close with the other. “And if you aren’t game, then that is completely fine, all right? It’s for you, if you want to do it.”

“Are you looking for your piercing gun, because I told Geoff--”

She laughed. “No, Gavin. I use that on costume leather. We’d bring you to our guy if you finally decided to take the plunge. Ah-ha, found it! Close your eyes.”

He was reluctant, unsure what was coming, but... it was Griffon, so he knew he’d be all right. She and her husband had kept him well for his months-long stay with them; damaging him now would be silly.

He shut his eyes and sighed, letting her have at him. He felt nothing for a second, then metal swung around his neck, tugged down like the times Burnie put a tie on him before formal events. The loop wasn’t as tight, though he felt it fasten around him. Then it pulled, and his eyes snapped open.

Griffon clicked her tongue. “I did not tell you to open your eyes, did I?”

Gavin looked at the leash that found its way back to him for the third time. “I... Sorry?”

She tugged the leash lightly. “You’ll make it up to me, right?”

It had been very loud in Gavin’s brain. Plane crashes and chaos and alarm bells and warning klaxons. It had been part of what was ratcheting the stress and tension in his higher and higher.

All of that went quiet when Griffon pulled the lead. Everything narrowed down to the simplest things:  _There is a leash around my neck_  and, quiet but earnest,  _I can be good_.

His eyes traced the metal links to Griffon’s hand, then up to her face. As he met her eyes, he watched her smile widen into something soft and sweet, the whites of her teeth showing. “Yeah,” Gavin croaked, then coughed. “Yeah, ‘course.”

“Good. Why don’t you...” She glanced around the room. “Grab us both some of that sunshine tea.”

He stepped away, and watched as Griffon slacked her grip on the lead to give him space to work. Under her supervision, he got out mason jars (a vital ingredient to the drink, according to the Ramseys), filled them with ice, then poured out the minty-lemony tea. He bumped the fridge shut with his hip, and smiled faintly at Griffon when she nodded approvingly.

Without another word, she turned and headed to the living room. Gavin followed. Because the universe had a diabolical sense of timing, Geoff was just walking in as they passed the entryway, grocery bags in his hands. He made to toss his keys on the sideboard, but his eyes caught the sight of his wife leading his charge by the neck through the house and missed the throw, the keys clunking loudly on the wooden floor.

“Oh, there you are. Here, Gavin.” Griffon took the two teas from Gavin and set them on the table, then handed Gavin’s leash to Geoff. “Help Geoff put everything away and get him a tea too, okay?”

Gavin ducked his head, feeling his cheek go hot so quickly it made him dizzy. “Okay, Griffon.”

In the kitchen, Geoff dumped everything, including his end of the leash, on the counter before turning to Gavin. “Gavin.”

“I’m okay,” Gavin said, cutting him off before they could get into it. “And you  _discussed  _this with Griffon.”

Geoff pointed at Gavin, like he was about to make a good point in his own defense, but subsided, instead rubbing his beard. “Yeah. A bit.”

“Well, then.” Gavin took a moment to put the groceries away, bundling up the plastic bags for recycling, and poured Geoff his tea. He handed it to the man, along with the leash.

Geoff chewed on the inside of his cheek, but accepted both. “Do you need.... I don’t know, a safe word, or--”

“Please shut up,” Gavin groaned.

A brightness lit up in Geoff’s eyes and he gave the lead a sharp yank. “Come again?”

Gavin squeaked. It was eerie, how Geoff could just change modes like that. Very helpful for work, but always surprising off the clock. “N-nothing.”

“Good boy,” Geoff said, and Gavin inhaled sharply. Whatever Geoff saw in his face, it earned a little softness from him. One wide hand stroked through Gavin’s hair. “Okay. Come on.”

They went to rejoin Griffon. Gavin wondered how far this was going to go, if he’d have to sit on the floor or something, but with a tug (and it seemed that Griffon was enjoying the convenience of the leash more than anything) he was pulled in between them on the sofa. His long legs tucked up on the cushion, and he could feel Geoff’s arm stretching behind his neck, all the way over to Griffon.

Gavin spent his last day in America watching  _Cloverfield_ , explaining in detail just how much the “camerawork” (if it could be called that) bugged the shit out of him until Griffon hooked her fingers into the improvised collar and pulled him over so his head lay on her shoulder.

Let it not be said that Gavin couldn’t take direction, explicit or implied.

* * *

England is cold and it rains every bloody day. It’s a universal truth. Gavin knew this but had been away so long, had become such a damn sun worshipper with a wardrobe of polo shirts and capris and sunglasses, that the clothes he left in England weren’t enough to keep him warm even when they fit. Apparently he’d grown just enough during his time abroad that his wrists peeked out from his jumpers and jackets, and his ankles showed under the hems of his pants.

It was bad enough that he was due in to work almost immediately after flying in, but now he had to find the time to go shopping for clothes that wouldn’t having him looking like a tosser when he walked into the production offices.

If he wasn’t in such a rush, he’d have sent Burnie a rude message about how Rooster Teeth’s zero-fucks-given dress code had ruined him for every other job he’d work. But thinking about Rooster Teeth made him think more of Austin and its heat and its people and its food.

Gavin went to the damn shops, spent a ridiculous amount of money on a basically an entire new wardrobe that he didn’t want, and went to work.

Things got better. Or, he got enough distance from Rooster Teeth that he forgot how low things had gotten. It was around then he started answering the voicemails and text messages, able to deal with them again at last.

Also, Gus threatened to give his phone number out on the site for concerned fans to help the company contact Gavin if Gavin didn’t pick up his fucking phone. Gus was sort of an asshole.

“Someone is going to put you in a box and ship you back to America if you don’t stop snapping at people,” Dan said from the bed in Gavin’s bedroom. Gavin was editing the footage they’d shot earlier that day while Dan offered moral support (which mainly consisted of pointing out how that lighting made Gavin’s nose look even bigger) and played on Gavin’s gamertag.

“I am not that bad,” Gavin muttered, playing with sound mixing.

“You are a  _beast_ , B.” Dan didn’t even look away from the telly. Gavin glanced over and winced, hoping that Dan would be slightly more successful with weaponry in the army than in Halo. “When I say ‘someone’, I mean I am going to find a shipping crate and trip you into it if you don’t stop.”

“Look, I’ve got a lot of things to do and not a lot of time to do them, all right?”

Dan clawed the air, making an angry cat noise before gripping the controller again.

“You’re an arsehole.”

“Not as much as you are,” Dan noted. “I want to take you out with me just so the girls will flock to me in the wake of your surly bollocks.”

“It’s times like these when I most cherish our friendship.”

They did end up going out and Dan  _did  _pull, though Gavin refused to believe that had anything to do with his presence.

After filming enough with Dan to keep their channel active for a few months, Gavin spent probably the worst two weeks of his life on a shoot up north. The weather was cold in a way that was unfathomable to him after so long in warmer climes and after a long string of fourteen hour days, Gavin was so exhausted that he was hallucinating.

He spent three days after the shoot wrapped in his hotel room. The first day was spent entirely out of his fucking mind, seeing things and feeling the walls closing in on him. The other two he slept straight through, which was likely for the best.

It was something that made his chest hurt, being alone like that, laying in his bed staring up at the popcorn ceiling as he waited for his brain to rein itself back in. Every man was an island, yeah, but Gavin had never before felt quite so remote and unreachable. There was a time when he didn’t mind extended periods of only work and his own company. It seemed that time was gone; he wanted more.

It was only a few more weeks before he was on a plane back to the States, but it felt like much longer. The flight itself aged him months before he at last touched down in Texas.

He could feel the crush of heat as he walked up the pathway from the plane’s door to the terminal, and somehow that just made everything worse. A sweat pricked up on his forehead, flushed cold by the aggressive air conditioning that came standard with indoors Austin. When he turned his phone back on and saw he had a message from Griffon, it was like a vice had been set inside his lungs. Thankfully, he’d handled customs during his connection in Memphis and could give into the urge to break out into a brisk run towards baggage claim.

He almost lost his wheelie bag a few times as he ran, but couldn’t be arsed to care. He spotted familiar faces by the carousel and skidded to a stop a few feet away, realizing that barreling full-tilt into his hosts wouldn’t be a great way of saying hello.

As it was, Geoff must’ve seen some of his antics; he raised an eyebrow at Gavin and his flushed appearance, the way he was catching his breath. “What, have you just flown in from England and boy, are your arms tired?”

Gavin laughed, the sound choked and rough, closer to a gasp for breath than anything. “It’s... It’s good to see you too, Geoffrey.”

Griffon broke out into a huge smile. “Oh, don’t you two start already,” she chided before stepping right into Gavin’s space and drawing him down into a hug. Gavin didn’t even think about it before he was dropping his bag and wrapping his arms around her in return. He felt Geoff move in, one of the man’s broad, hot hands pressing between the shoulder blades.

The breath squeezed out of Gavin felt like it’d been held for months, and the next one, full of dry heat and Geoff’s aftershave and Griffon’s sawdust smell, was more rejuvenating than it has any right to be.

Griffon was the one to break the embrace when the carousel started up. “How about we get your bag and take you home?”

 _Home_.  Gavin smiled, uncomplicated and cheerful in a way he’d forgotten how to be. “I’d like that.”

* * *

There was a euphoric feeling of  _vacation  _that followed Gavin around for the first week he was back in Austin. His room was, by the end of the first night, set up almost exactly as it had been before he left. There was a full jug of sunshine tea waiting for him in the fridge when he cared to look. Geoff had added another piercing to his collection and his beard was slightly bushier, but otherwise things had not changed much.

Not everything was so familiar. There was an entirely new office to work in, which was a mixed bag. It broke the illusion of Gavin having only dreamt of leaving rather than actually gone anywhere, and he had many fond memories of the old office space (of directing footage, making a fool of himself for the podcast, being tied up in about ten different ways for that short). But the new building was beautiful and had actual room to work in. There was even an office for Achievement Hunter, complete with a green-tint paint job, brand new desks, and a Jack who was for once pleased to see him.

“Oh, good, Geoff brought our editing minion home,” Jack said dryly as he gave Gavin a brief, one-armed hug.

“It’s nice to be appreciated,” Gavin muttered.

The new square footage meant that it was very, very apparent that Gavin’s role in the company had changed as well.  _Red vs Blue_ ’s production had its own studio on the other side of the building. It only took a few days for Gavin to realise that he was mostly sequestered in the AH office, recording and editing and playing throughout the day. Gus was the only one to call him away, wanting his return to the podcast. Otherwise, Gavin’s time was devoted to AH.

Gavin wasn’t sure what that meant.

He waited until Jack left to take a call from Joel (and Gavin could hear Joel shouting down the line even from where he sat) before sliding over to Geoff’s desk.

Geoff was working on something very intently, but a smile flickered onto his face when Gavin wheeled in close. He didn’t otherwise acknowledge Gavin, continuing to click away at the editing software.

Gavin responded by settling in at the corner of Geoff’s desk, crossing his arms on the surface and resting his chin on them, staring up at Geoff.

Geoff kept plugging away at his work for a while before stopping, smoothly pulling his jacket off the back of his chair, and tossing it over Gavin’s head.

“Wot, stop that!” He pulled it off.

“Stop fucking staring at me, I don’t need the distraction.” Geoff leaned into the screen more. “You wanna stay late today?”

“No, I just...” His face felt warm. “It’s just I was wondering about why m’joschanged.” He stopped; damn, he was doing that thing again. “I mean, hold on.”

“What?”

“Er, what?”

“Clearly hooked on phonics has done you good,” Geoff muttered. “Do you have any extra B roll from this recording session?”

“I’ll...” Gavin pushed away from the desk. “Gimme a sec and I’ll look.”

“Thanks.”

Gavin tried to put it out of his mind, focusing on his work, even if he wasn’t sure why this was his work now, why he’d often wander by the other studio and have little idea what precisely was being worked on.

It nagged. It curdled and soured in him for about a week before the UPS apocalypse happened. Their part of Austin was very prone to brownouts and full blackouts. It was a long-standing issue that the company had adapted to buy buying a fleet of uninterrupted power supplies, meant to provide emergency power in such cases.

But with the addition of so many more computers and animators, the UPSes had been prioritized to the RvB team.

So when Gavin was in the middle of importing footage to edit for his current project and the power winked out for the third time that week, Gavin stared at the blank screen for a moment as the beeping of UPSes started to ring through the building, soon joined by harried voices and racing footsteps. People were rushing to save work and close out processes.

Gavin leaned back in his chair, waiting for the lights to come back on. As he did, Kerry poked his head in, gave him a sympathetic look, and got him a soda. Kerry was a brilliant person, even if Gavin was slightly furious with him for daring to have one of the coveted UPSes.

It was ten minutes before he could boot up again, and found that not only had his editing project corrupted, but so had the footage he’d been importing.

He breathed out of his nose hard, looking at the clock. There wasn’t enough time to re-record anything, and honestly he didn’t want to do so anyway. His good nature had run dry. Knowing that to recover his work would take too long, that he’d miss his ride home with Geoff, just made him bite the inside of his cheeks until pain lanced through him.

He went home, barely talking to Geoff the whole time. The intention was to lock himself in his room for a while, taking some time to cool off before subjecting the Ramseys to his presence, but it was another one of his hosts’ get-togethers. There were people milling around the house, loud conversations bouncing down the halls, no sense of peace left to the place.

There was a thing that happened when Gavin heard a sound he liked or felt something appealing. It was a pleasant shivering sensation that skittered over his skin, around his neck, across his skull.

This was the opposite of that feeling. The sound of all the people set off unhappy shudders over his body, making his teeth click painfully together.

Worse was when Geoff got pulled into a conversation about his work, particularly RvB, and his easy smile as he said, “Yeah, the new season looks good as dicks, it’s fucking great. The team we have on it’s goddamn  _amazing_.”

Gavin walked away, ducking into the kitchen and starting to pull open the liquor cabinets.

It was Griffon that found him with a bottle of whiskey in front of him as he searched for a glass, wondering if he should skip the middleman and just chug the damn thing. “Gavin? What’s wrong, Gavin, you look pissed.”

“I’m not.” He spun the cap off the bottle. “Going to remedy that right quick.”

“Gavin--” She reached out and tugged the bottle away. “Okay, something happened. What is it?”

He bristled. Something about the care in her voice, it only made him feel worse. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

“Well, it can either be nothing or it can be something that doesn’t matter. Which sounds to me like something that matters a hell of a lot.” Her hand curled around his wrist. “Sweetie, you can talk to us.”

“I’m not exactly in the mood, Griffon!” Gavin held out a hand. “For god’s sake, I just wanted a drink!”

Satisfyingly, her calm popped along with his. “I am not giving you anything until you explain. Or should I go ask Geoff what happened at work today?”

Gavins scoffed. “He’s a bit busy, isn’t he? Wait until he’s done fellating the entire machinima team, I think.”

“ _What_?” Her face was a portrait of confusion. “You’re mad at the-- You’re not even working on the series anymore.”

Gavin grinned angrily at that and pulled the bottle from her hand. “Right, then.”

His attempt to walk away was cut off; what Griffon lacked in height, she made up for in muscle and it only took a second for Gavin to find himself pushed back against the kitchen counter. “Okay, that’s enough, Gavin.” The bottle was taken again, slid down the counter out of his reach before she caught his chin in one hand, tilting his head to look at her. “You can either talk to me like an adult or...”

Gavin leaned down. “Or what? Will you send me to my room? Or export me again?”

Griffon’s face was hard and angry in a way he’d not seen before. Her hand pressed against his chest, keeping him in place. “You need to calm down. And clearly you and Geoff need to talk, because you’re so on different pages you might as well be reading different books. But we can’t just kick everyone out, so.”

She reached behind him, pulling open a drawer and grabbing something before yanking him down closer to her.

The leash circled his neck, keeping him held down to her level. It clicked at she set it around him. The metal was cool. Her hands were warm where they rest against his sternum.

Low and stern, she asked, “Now, are you going to be good or are we going to have a problem?”

It was like a hole being poked into a water balloon, how the tension just flowed around of him. Gavin was still upset, still had just gone through a horrendously shitty day, still wasn’t sure where he stood in America after spending so long in England longing to be here. But for that moment, he let it go and swayed forward, his nose bumping Griffon’s forehead.

“Gavin?”

He swallowed thickly. “I’ll... I’ll be good.”

Griffon searched his face, her brow knit in silent worry even as she stood there with the metal links of the leash wrapped around her fist. He couldn’t blame her; he wasn’t certain what was going on either. Only that... for the moment, he could deal with that. He felt content, in control for the first time in hours.

Perhaps not under his  _own  _control, but... Griffon’s was just as good, really.

He shut his eyes, not wanting to see anymore. “M’sorry,” he mumbled quietly.

“Oh, sweetie.” Her hands cupped his cheeks. “You need to learn to talk to us. Are you homesick? Did you want to--”

“No! No, I don’t...”

Her thumbs brushed over his closed eyes. “All right. We’re going to talk about this, but not just yet, okay?” He nodded. “Okay.” He hummed as her nails ran lightly through his hair. He felt like a cat being pet and wanted to purr from the attention and the comfort. “Good. Good boy.”

Gavin shivered and let his head hang, suddenly devoid of all the worry and tension from the last few days. In its wake, there lay a hollow, echoing feeling in his gut that made him feel exhausted.

* * *

Gavin didn’t know when the Talk was happening, but soon enough it was Monday and Geoff was knocking him out of bed. “Hey. Radio says traffic. Get un-naked and lets go, it’s going to be a long drive in.”

Ten minutes later, Geoff was driving and Gavin was curled up in the passenger seat, a mug of coffee cradled lovingly in his hands. He was basically still asleep, and by the time they hit the traffic, Gavin was tempted to put his seat back and doze for a bit.

Of course it was then that Geoff struck up conversation. “So wanna tell me what Friday was about?”

Friday. Gavin blinked at him. “What?”

Geoff’s eyes darted between Gavin and the road. “Friday. When you threw a tantrum at Griffon about something I apparently did?”

Gavin thought about denying it, but then decided  _fuck that_. “Why was I taken off RvB?”

Geoff frowned. “What?”

“RvB. I used to help with that. Now I don’t even get script copy.” He shrugged, going for nonchalant but likely missing it by a kilometre. “It just seems a bit off to sponsor my visa, get one that’s even longer than my last one, and now you don’t even want me for--”

“Okay, I am going to stop you there before I throw you out of this car and into oncoming traffic,” Geoff said loudly. “Fucking  _fuck_ , you are not actually this dense, Gavin, come on now.” He looked over at Gavin before returning his gaze forward. “God, you are. Okay, dipshit, let me lay this out for you: Achievement Hunter is going to be a thing. Maybe not like the series is, but it’s still gonna be a big deal, and we’re expanding it, and I fucking  _asked  _Burnie and Matt to give you to me so you could help us with the aforementioned thing-making. You aren’t being  _punished_ , you stupid piece of shit, you’re just working on something else now, okay?”

“I. Erm. I didn’t.”

“No shit.” Geoff sighed explosively. “Why is this my life now? What did I do to deserve this?”

Gavin looked at the floor of the car. “Ah, well. You know.”

“Yeah.” With Gavin proper chastised, Geoff said to him, less brusque: “Are we cool?”

Gavin nodded. “Yeah. Sorry for... being a prat. Thanks for not buncing me to the curb.”

“Well, importing another European twink would be a pain in the ass.”

Gavin rolled his eyes and drank his coffee, feeling the sick, sour knot in his gut loosen and start to fade. The lesson from this was probably some bollocks about talking about his feelings more openly, but rather than dwell on what happened and learn from it, Gavin pushed it out of his mind entirely.

The road looked more like a car park than a main street when Geoff spoke up next. “So, the other thing is...” He scratched his beard idly. “The leash thing... how’re you with... should we set up a...”

Gavin recoiled in horror and nearly bashed his head into the window. “What? What are you talking about?”

“Well, Friday was the fourth time you got, you know. Leashed. If this is going to be a thing--”

“It’s not a thing!”

“Four times, I dunno, that seems like a thing!”

“You are not doing this right now!” Gavin said, a shrill whinge eeking into his voice. “You are not bringing this up while we’re  _in the middle of a traffic jam_!”

Geoff had the decency to look contrite. “Well, we need to talk about it before we get home! I promised Griffon to make sure we understand what’s going on!”

“I am going to crawl out on the sun roof,” Gavin declared as he unclipped his seat belt.

“Gavin-- fucking Christ, sit down and put that back on, you little shit, and stop making this harder.” Geoff’s hand landed solid and heavy on Gavin’s thigh, stilling him. “Look, if we’ve done this four times now, it’s safe to say there’s no problem with it on our end, so calm your tits.”

Gavin settled as much as he could, which wasn’t a lot, but he wasn’t about to bodily remove himself from the conversation.

Geoff waited, watching Gavin out of the corner of his eye. When he seemed satisfied with Gavin’s ability to not freak the fuck out, he moved his hand back to the shift. “Okay. The leash. I meant it as a joke. You... like it?”

Pressing his lips together, Gavin looked out the window.

Geoff sighed. “You spent an entire night being a little asshole until I put you in it, and Griffon’s done the same trick on you twice. You calm down. Which-- hey, that’s awesome. No complaints here.”

Gavin slid down in the seat until he could almost hide behind his knees, bent in front of him.

Geoff pretended Gavin was not trying to sink through the floor and went on. “I’m going to just lay down some ground rules and you’ll tell me if you disagree with any, all right? Right. So, rule one is that we’ll only do it at home when we’re off the clock. Nothing in the office. If I ever slip up or make you uncomfortable, you  _tell me_. Got it?” When Gavin continued to sulk, Geoff smacked him in the leg. “Ten-four, you dipshit.”

“I understand, ten-four, got it,” Gavin said from behind his knees.

“Rule two, safe word. Griffon demands one.”

Gavin was being ordered to give Geoffrey Ramsey his fucking safe word. He should’ve stayed in England. “I... can’t just say no?”

“What if you’re having an ornery day and want to be able to say no without losing the leash?”

His ears were burning so red it almost hurt. “You... know a lot about how this works.”

“Remind me to introduce you to the woman I married,” Geoff answered with a smirk. “Come up with a safe word by the end of the day. Rule three...” He took a deep breath, steadying. “You decide how far it goes.”

That was vague. Gavin looked up from his knees to frown at Geoff.

“Exactly what I said. If things get... If they develop, it’s gonna be you that does it, okay? But, an open door’s an invitation. Ours, anyway. That’s four, by the way; your room is a safe zone.”

Gavin nodded, even though he didn’t entirely follow what Geoff was saying. The thing he did know was that Geoff clearly had a much more interesting bedroom life with Griffon than Gavin had ever assumed.

“Right. And five is that you don’t throw any more fucking tantrums because you don’t know how to talk to us. You live under our roof, we’re kind of responsible for you not going completely off the rails. Use your words.”

Gavin smiled at that. It stung, because it was true, but Geoff was right. “Got it.”

“Good. Okay.” Geoff smiled, and it was a smile as warm as the mid-morning sunlight against his skin. Talking about Gavin’s weird affinity for leashes was not his favorite way to spend the ride into work, but at least there was... structure now. He knew where he stood with Geoff and Griffon both, and that was a bigger relief than he could have anticipated. His head hung down, lax and calm.

Eventually, he felt the car pull into the car park. The engine turned off, but before he heard Geoff get out, Gavin felt a warm hand curl around the base of his skull. The hair at the nape of his neck was brushed through by rough, blunt fingers.

“Ready?”

Gavin nodded. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

* * *

Gavin was a notorious procrastinator, unable to motivate himself into doing anything that wasn’t work-related. As such, the leash thing didn’t happen again for about a week because Gavin simply couldn’t come up with a decent safe word, as Griffon demanded.

“What about  _hey would you stop that_?”

“Too long,” she said as she worked some weaving yarn between Gavin’s hands. It looped round and round through his fingers and around his wrists in some pattern only she understood. It was a rainbow of colors, and Griffon carefully separated out the colors she wanted, snipping them from the bunch.

“What aboooout...  _clunge_?”

She rolled her eyes. “No. And sit still.”

Geoff walked behind the sofa, leaning across the back of it so he could watch Griffon and Gavin’s hands, and leaned over to kiss Griffon on the corner of her mouth. “I see this is going well.”

“We’ve gotten through half the skein,” Gavin said.

“I meant you and your eternal quest for a fucking safe word. What about  _wet bread_?”

Gavin gagged, spine curving with the force of it. “Ughk!”

“Geoff!” Griffon shoved Geoff away, palm flat against his face. “Out, now, the adults are working.”

Geoff snorted, but politely fucked off and left them to it.

It did give Gavin an idea, which he sat on for another three days before saying out of the blue in the middle of lunch in the new office.

“What about  _moist_?  Or, well... I read that you need two, one for slowing down and one for full stop.”

Geoff paused in his sandwich making and took a quick look around to make sure no one else was in earshot. Monty was sitting on a stool nearby and clearly had put himself into Sleep Mode, snoring quietly. “You googled this shit?” Geoff asked quietly.

Gavin shrugged one shoulder and casually stole a slice of tomato from Geoff. “Well, you know. But right, so slow down is  _brakes  _and full stop is  _moist_ , all right?”

Geoff gave him an oddly serious, level look. “You certain?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I’ll let Griffon know.” When Gavin tried to steal half of the constructed sandwich, Geoff smacked his hand away. “Take your break, eat something more than a vegetable--”

“Tomato’s fruit.”

“Shut up. Eat, then you’re doing voice over with Jack.”

Gavin saluted lazily. “Aye, boss.”

* * *

The anticipation was killer, a high all on its own. He knew he was safe (so to speak) at work and once he turned in for the night, but the evenings spent in the Ramseys’ company were slowly taking the tension in his body and notching it tighter and tighter. He was pulled taut like a violin string, and every quiet smile Griffon gave him, every time Geoff pushed him around in his usual handsy way, it was like that string was being plucked, setting every nerve in his body vibrating.

That more than anything caused the next incident. Gavin was, admittedly, hovering around and practically begging for his hosts to do  _something  _other than the usual routine. He didn’t act out, because that wasn’t... quite the thing, this time. It wasn’t what he wanted for it.

Eventually, out of the blue, Geoff caught him in the hallway and nudged his back against the wall between two paintings. “All right, we’ll put you out of your misery. I can’t stand your fucking sad Bambi eyes when you’re begging for it.”

Gavin grinned. “Thank you, Geoffrey,” he chirped in his most saccharine, irritatingly earnest voice.

“Uh huh.” The leash clipped on and Geoff wasted no time dragging Gavin away by it. “Come on, boy, let’s go see what Griffon’s doing.”

She was elbow deep in one of her projects for the local theatre group that she worked with, her shop filled with everything from sandalwood oil to leopard-print faux leather. It wasn’t long before Gavin was standing very still for her, modeling her latest creation, garment pins stuck in all around his joints.

It was a long night spent putting things on, having pins stuck in around him, carefully taking them off, then repeating the process over and over. It wasn’t the most interesting way to spend a night with Geoff and Griffon, but the way Griffon ran her fingers through his hair and told him he was doing such a good job, it was still a nice warming feeling. His day job was fulfilling, of course, but the soft praise he got for  _this_ , it was a whole new shape fitting into his chest, filling a weird achey gap he hadn’t even been aware of before it was filled.

Just that, wearing the leash and doing as Griffon commanded as Geoff watched and worked his way through a few beers, left Gavin feeling utterly bone-tired in an unexpected way. He swayed as he meandered back to his room, and Geoff’s hand against his back, when it arrived, was a welcome support.

“Hey. Hang on, Gav.” He unclipped the metal and drew it away. “You okay? Are we good?”

Gavin nodded. “We are  _tippy-top_  right now, Geoffrey.” He rubbed his hand around his neck, feeling the phantom pull where the metal had been. “Could use something a little more comfortable if you’re going to tie me up all night though.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Geoff murmured.

And what Gavin didn’t expect was that he  _did_.

Later that week, Gavin barely got his shoes off before Griffon accosted him in the entryway. “Hold still, I need to check the fit,” she said, unbuttoning the polo Gavin happened to be wearing that day, pulling it aside so she could get at his neck.

Geoff silently shut the door behind them, then lingered, watching his wife work over Gavin’s shoulder. “Nice.”

“Nothing but the best for our boy,” Griffon said in a light, distracted tone as she cinched something around Gavin’s neck. “Is that too tight?”

“Uh.” Gavin tried to tip his head in such a way that he could see whatever it was with no luck. It was much more snug than the leash, though.

“I’ll check since Gavin’s having a fucking critical system failure here,” Geoff said and hooked his fingers into the thing, pulling. Gavin squawked and coughed. “Bit tight.”

“Let’s try...” Griffon toyed with the thing, then said, “that.”

Another tug, and Geoff’s fingers slid in alongside Gavin’s neck. “Perfect.”

Gavin pushed Geoff’s hands away and darted away from the two of them and down the hall until he found the mirror.

The collar was Griffon’s handiwork, that much was obvious. It was soft black leather on the outside and an even softer plush material on the inside, pale green. The stitching was rainbow, subtle but friendly as it peeked out from the matte black. It was, now that he was paying attention to more than  _there’s a thing and I don’t know what it bloody is_ , so soft it set off that weird prickly pleasant feeling in his brain, making him shiver.

Autonomous sensory whatever-the-balls, it felt  _nice_.

Griffon sidled in next to him and put her arms around him. “Okay?”

Gavin cleared his throat, then did so again when the words remained caught. “Yes. Very okay. Uh.” He met her gaze, head bowed, feeling tight and strange deep in his gut. “Thank you?”

“Sweetie,” Griffon sighed, combing her fingers through his hair. “One last thing.” She pulled a new leash out of her pocket. Where the old one had just been metal links with a plastic handle, the new one was corded strips of leather wrapped into a narrow but strong lead. The grip was a long leather strip, perfect to wrap around a hand for leverage.

It clipped on and Gavin let out a long, shuddering breath.

“Gavin?”

“M’fine. What...” His mind spun, like he was on his way to drunk without having had anything. “What do you want?”

Griffon shook her head softly. “We’re going to watch the game. You’re coming along. Clear?”

Gavin nodded, and shuffled along after her as he was led into the living room. Geoff vanished to grab drinks and finger food while Griffon settled in with the remote and pulled Gavin in. He thought for a minute that he’d be set on the floor, that maybe that was Griffon’s thing, and he wasn’t enthused about the idea but he would do it as thanks for the craftwork wrapped around his neck and all its glory. When he tried to settle down there, Griffon scoffed and pulled again. The fuzzy soft inside of the collar shifted against his skin and Gavin made a soft, involuntary noise.

“Up here, boy.” She patted her leg. “Lay down.”

He climbed up and let her rearrange him so he was laying down on his side, facing the telly, his head pillowed on her lap. Her hand settled on his head, curled gently around the crown. When Geoff returned, he handed the snacks to Griffon and pulled Gavin’s long legs up to free a space to sit. After, he let Gavin’s legs splay out over his, resting with one hand around Gavin’s ankle, touch hot and steadying.

Gavin’s head spun, a feeling of being overwhelmed washing over him for a few minutes. He never dreamed that he’d have to, but  _brakes  _was on the tip of his tongue as he lay there, supine and quiet as his hosts watched their ball game.

But the feeling subsided. He relaxed into their hold, letting his eyes go half-lidded, not bothering to pay attention to the game. It was not nearly as interesting as Geoff’s thumb rubbing slow circles around the knot of his ankle or Griffon pressing ranch-dipped carrots into his mouth.

It was a hot mix of calm and exhilaration that kept Gavin awake deep into the night.

* * *

The only thing Gavin found unsettling about the arrangement was how much he wasn’t unsettled by it.

“I mean, I  _should  _be out of my skull about this, right?” Gavin said into the phone, stretched out on the porch swing. “What’s up next, Griffon making doggie biscuits and teaching me to heel?”

Dan was quiet for a long moment. “Well, it... it sounds like you’re having fun in America.”

“I’m serious, Dan!”

“B, I’m sorry, mate, but I’m not much experienced in being put on a lead and ordered around!” He sighed. “I mean... they’re good people, right? And you’re... all right?”

Gavin smiled. “I’m fine, Dan. And no, it’s... nice.”

“Please don’t give me any details.”

“Fuck off, I’m trying to share.”

“I don’t need sharing about your kinky shagging!”

“It’s not shagging!”

Dan laughed. “You are being put on a lead and ordered around, and you don’t get sex out of it? Gav, you’re good people, but sometimes I just don’t get you.”

That was a fair point, Gavin thought. He hadn’t really thought of what they were doing as a sexual thing, but... all right, yeah, when he thought about a bloke in a leather collar playing obedient pet, his mind definitely went to the R18 place.

But so far it was just an extension of his normal residence under the Ramseys’ roof. It didn’t feel like a giant leap, to go from his regular routine to his collared routine. There was never a moment in which he felt strange about it or uncomfortable. It was just something he did with Geoff and Griffon.

On the other hand... Dan bringing up the topic made it impossible to not think about. Suddenly the way the collar set his skin alight with fizzy phantom sensation made his face hot.

There was the matter of his hosts. Griffon, obviously, was a ten in a world of ones, and Gavin had maintained a crush on her since he was sixteen. There was nothing about her thatwasn’t appealing, but-- Geoff’s wife. It was like his train of thought kept hitting that wall and just bouncing right back off it. It didn’t matter that Gavin was a fan of her smile, the muscles of her arms, the way the ink curved around her skin.

There was still that block, keeping him from thinking about it in depth. It felt wrong without Geoff’s blessing. Or... without Geoff, really.

That was a more interesting thought experiment. Gavin shut his eyes and tried to poke carefully at the idea. Geoff. Geoff, who had bad posture and sleepy eyes, but could hold Gavin whenever he decided to throw himself into Geoff’s arms. His arms were most definitely something Gavin noticed, couldn’t help noticing really, given how physical their friendship had always been. Geoff was the most good-natured man Gavin had ever known, and yet it took the span of a blink for his grin to go toothy like a predator and Gavin would be a lying piece of shit if he claimed that Geoff leaning in close with that smirk of his had never left his pulse racing.

It was difficult to stop thinking about the way Geoff’s lips parted to reveal that grin of his once he started. Worst yet, it wasn’t the sort of thought that was conducive to getting work done. The AH office was about the size of a shoe box, making close proximity an unavoidable truth.

Geoff leaned in far too much during a recording session, preferring to share Gavin’s mic and pop filter rather than set up an extra. That close up, Geoff smelled like the sandalwood oil Griffon used in the workshop, which was not a useful tidbit for Gavin to learn; and yet he couldn’t stop noticing.

He was going to book a flight to England and punch Dan in the nose for this.

“Hey,” Geoff asked quietly when Jack was out of the office. His hand settled on Gavin’s neck, as Geoff was wont to do even before the leash thing started. “You okay there, Gavin?”

“Fine! I’m fine! Erm. What were you saying?” Gavin tried to meet Geoff’s eyes, but that was a bad idea as he started to _fucking notice that Geoff had nice eyes_, what the buggering fucking _fuck_. He was really going to kill Dan for this.

“Did you get the email about next week? I’m going to be at the convention and you’re picking up my slack. You have the shot list, right?”

Gavin nodded. “Yes, email, right. I’ll take care of it.”

The suspicious look Geoff gave him didn’t inspire much confidence. “Riiight. Just... help Jack, stay on top of shit, and don’t let Griffon cook anything that doesn’t go in the microwave.”

“How did she eat before she met you?” It was a valid question; Griffon was a good drink mixer, but otherwise did not belong in a kitchen.

“Poorly. Why do you think she’s so short?”

Gavin, because he was a bit of a shit, relayed this to Griffon the following week while Geoff was off at the con, where he was likely standing before a line of fans waiting to blow him while Gavin scrambled to keep up with the increased workload. It was the second night of the Geoff-less Ramsey house when Gavin made a nuisance of himself, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, barring it, and informing Griffon of the popular opinion of her cooking and its alleged effects.

“I’m under strict orders,” Gavin said, the sympathy in his voice probably made worthless by the huge grin on his face.

“Oh?” Griffon crossed her arms. “And my husband’s orders supercede mine now?”

“He is the man who makes money appear in my bank account.” It was an old joke, but a truthful one.

“So that’s the hierarchy, is it?” Griffon considered this for a moment before smiling. “One sec.”

Then Gavin was bending down to let Griffon buckle him into his collar. “Well, all right, that does change the situation a bit. But he’s right about your cooking.”

Griffon wrapped the leash around her hand a few times, taking up the slack before using it to pull Gavin aside and get into the kitchen. “Quiet.”

Gavin nodded, falling silent.

“Good. Now, we’re going to make dinner and you’re going to film it and we will make Geoff witness our prowess in the kitchen.” When he nodded his understanding, she reached up and unclipped the leash, leaving the collar in place. “Go grab a camera.”

Flipping through one of Geoff’s recipe books (and the man had several, albeit most geared directly towards grilling things), they settled on a homemade pizza recipe, mostly because it was already late in the evening and they needed to eat in one hour instead of five.

Gavin dutifully filmed as Griffon collected ingredients (“We don’t have tomato paste, but if we cook down tomato soup that should work, right? Say yes, Gavin.” “Yes, Gavin. Ow, don’t hit!”), preheated the oven (“Bumping it up 25 degrees will get it done faster without burning it, I think.”), started making dough (“Is there a part of me that isn’t covered in flour right now?” “Doesn’t look like it.” “Thought so. … Hug time! Aw, Gav. Gav! Come back!”), assembled the pizza (“I’m going to go out on a limb and say this doesn’t look like the picture.”), and put it in the oven (“Yeah, we’re going to have to delete this video.”).

“You know what I  _can_ make?” Griffon said as she threw the pizza and the scorched pan it had been baked on into the trash outside. “Jello shots.”

“Does that count as a food?”

“I can put fruit in them,” she said in a voice likely meant to be reassuring.

Gavin filmed Griffon making the jello shots, then set to uploading the footage onto one of their private servers so Geoff could see it. It was an educational video, no doubt.

Things got slightly... fuzzy after that point. None of Gavin’s adolescent indulgence in alcohol could have prepared him for the Ramseys and their iron livers. Either of them could drink him under the table and often did.

Shot glasses stained in various cheerful colors littered the living room table and similar colors clung to Griffon and Gavin’s lips. She smiled with a mouth of purple and pink, rubbing her thumb against Gavin’s mouth. “Red is a good look on you.”

“You keep getting that expression on your face,” Gavin said, over-enunciating. “Like you’re going to put me in one of your runway shows. In a dress.”

“You’d look awful in a dress,” Griffon looked him up and down. “I wouldn’t say no to your legs in a skirt. Maybe some dark stockings.”

“You are the worst person I know.”

“You would do it though, right?” Her hand patted the side of his face in an inebriated searching motion before sliding down to the collar. “If I asked?”

Gavin inhaled sharply. “No.” Her face fell, so disappointed he couldn’t not clarify. “B-but if you  _ordered_...”

Her smile returned, sunny and color-stained. “You are such a good boy.” Her arm wound around his neck, pulling him into a hug that he leaned readily into.

Gavin then immediately got up and excused himself to the bathroom because he recalled his earlier thought experiments. He was going to  _kill  _Dan for seeding the sex thing into his mind. He didn’t have the right. He’d already accepted so damn much from his hosts, their offered kindness, the understanding and help as he sorted through weird inclinations that he frankly had no idea how to handle.

It was a mix of confusion and alcohol that took him so off guard when Griffon caught him in the hallway, eyes sleepy in a way that Gavin usually associated with Geoff, and said, “Come on.”

“Where?”

“Bed. Sleep. I need a cuddle buddy, that’s all.” She trailed her fingers along the collar for a second, then stopped, seeming to think better of it. “That’s all,” she said again.

“I...” Gavin swallowed thickly and almost wished the collar was tighter so he’d feel it. “I need to think? About it?”

Griffon looked down and nodded. “Yeah, you do... that. Think.” She patted his cheek. “I’m turning in. Check the doors, then do the same, okay?”

He nodded and watched her walk away.

Then, he walked to the back door and pulled out his phone, typing up a text. It took longer than he expected-- Gavin didn’t realize how tipsy he was until he tried to make a coherent message pop up. Eventually he fired off:

_ griffon wants cuddle buddy fr bed. _

He thought about asking is that okay or what should I do, but decided to just give the facts.

He hit send, then walked through the house checking all the locks were locked and the lights were unlit. By the time he was done, he had a message alert from Geoff.

_ give her a kiss goodnight for me. _

Gavin leaned against the nearest wall and stared at the message in case it was going to resolve itself into something else. When it remained as it was, a casual affirmation, he still stared at it a few minutes more.

His door was open and his half-unmade bed waiting. But the door to the master bedroom was also ajar. Peering in, careful not to trust the threshold, Gavin watched as Griffon lay there in the large bed by herself. She wriggled around, trying to get comfortable. It looked restless and uncomfortable, and Gavin swayed forward, letting his unsteady feet carry him along.

He nudged off his socks and pulled off his shirt, leaving his pajama pants on as he crawled into the bed. The whole thing was soft, enough so that Griffon could clearly feel it when Gavin started to climb in. She smiled and beckoned him in. “You good?”

Gavin nodded, settling in next to her. “I’m always good, aren’t I?”

“Oh, usually.” She shifted closer, fluffing the pillows and getting settled. Her leg swung up around his, her arm around his shoulder. It was definitely a cuddle worthy of an octopus. “Yes?”

Gavin nodded, his head close to hers. From there, it was simple to just lean in and press his mouth to her hairline. There, it felt safe. “From Geoff,” he murmured.

“Mm. Geoff brings home the best gifts,” she said, tucked into Gavin’s shoulder.

* * *

It happened again, not the next night, but the one after. Gavin was brushing his teeth before bed, bone tired from a long day of work, but ultimately looking forward to Geoff’s return. As Gavin contemplated fun, quick pranks he could set up before Geoff settled back in at work, he noticed the bedroom door was ajar again, even more than before.

Griffon had gone to bed already. Usually, that meant the door was shut until morning.

But... Gavin rinsed his mouth out and thought about Geoff’s ground rules.

_ An open door’s an invitation. _

By then, Gavin knew where Griffon kept his collar. It would be very easy to slip it on and slide in. He thought that was what was being asked of him, honestly, but it was... dangerous. A lot was at risk.

So before he did anything, Gavin stopped and  _seriously thought_  about his options, about the consequences, about decisions made without the aid of alcohol. He knew that this was supposed to be a big step, him asking for something before it was explicitly offered, and that should’ve been a slippery slope that carried him down and spat him out onto a bed of nails.

Or whatever. Mostly, he thought about Griffon needing someone to curl up around in bed and how she had kissed his forehead and had whispered, “Such a good boy,” to him in the morning.

And how that managed to make this moment so unintimidating.

“Balls to it,” Gavin muttered to himself and went to find his collar, putting it on then twisting it around his neck to just feel the way it brushed against his skin. Skin prickling pleasantly, he let himself into the room, shutting the door behind him, and sat on the bed.

His weight shifted the mattress and Griffon squinted one eye open. “Hmf?”

Gavin nodded to the three throw pillows Griffon had wrapped around in an attempt to be comfortable. “Want help?”

She lifted her head and peered at him in the dim light, eyes lingering on his neck. Slowly, she smiled. “Oh, sweetie. How did we luck out with you?”

Gavin swallowed, a lump in his throat as he helped her toss the pillows out of the bed and laid down so Griffon could wrap her limbs around him again. Her breath puffed out over his chest, hair tickling his shoulder where she rested her head.

It was like an concoction of peacefulness and home and comfort and affection injected right into his chest, a sweet warmth suffused in him. If he could somehow bottle the feeling, he could retire at twenty-five a billionaire. And then he’d likely just spend his days playing games with Geoff and laying himself out to Griffon’s mercies. It had done him good so far.

He drifted off thinking of that, and his dreams were filled with scenes of himself padding through the Ramsey house and the Rooster Teeth offices in bare feet and his collar, sometimes led around but just as often left to his own devices. They were good dreams.

It was telling of the state Gavin had worked himself into that he didn’t realize he’d woken up again right away.

It was still dark, but his eyes were adjusted. It might’ve been the cold that woke up him, as Griffon wasn’t pressed to his side anymore, but it could’ve been the mattress moving or the soft voices.

“How was it?”

“Usual. Good for the first two days, exhausting the third. If I never have to bunk with Gus again, I’ll be happy.” There was a faint wet noise, then. “See you got a substitute.”

“He’s...” Griffon laughed quietly. “He’s eager to please.”

“Is he? Let me see.”

“Hold on, first...”

There was that  _noise  _again, and Gavin peeked across the bed. Geoff was back, clearly, and already was dressed down for bed. Griffon had her hands on his shoulders, grip tight enough that Gavin could see where she’d be leaving bruises amidst the tattoos. There was one  _hell  _of a welcome-back kiss going on, their mouths slanted together. It was loud enough that Gavin felt his face turning red. He tried to look away, feeling like he was intruding, but the sound was fucking distracting and he couldn’t stop himself from looking back, watching Geoff’s sanguinely allow his wife to dominate his mouth as he silently ran his broad hand up and down her back.

It was weird. Gavin had of course seen people in pubs drunkenly make out and he’d seen porn with actors doing the same. This was much more personal and somehow more affecting.

He tried to be quiet as he shimmied across the bed; as much as he wanted-- He should leave them to it, he thought.

“Okay, I’ve been neglecting Gav. Hang on,” Geoff murmured, then shifted over Griffon, tumbling onto the bed between her and Gavin before catching Gavin by the waist and dragging him over. He kissed Gavin’s cheek, mouth wet and beard fuller than it had been before the con. Geoff, because he was a dick, rubbed his face against Gavin’s bare neck, scratchy and whiskery.

“Oi, hey, I was  _sleeping_!” Gavin complained, trying to wiggle away. If he woke up with beard burn, he was going to be very unhappy; it was too hot to wear a jumper.

Geoff laughed and quit. “Really? It looked like you were trying to sneak out.” He lay back, turning Gavin’s head to look at him with a loose hold of his chin. “Were you good for Griffon?”

The words Gavin could say, both snide or honest, jumbled up into an incomprehensible mush. After attempting to say anything a few times and not coming up with anything remotely resembling words, he took a deep breath and nodded.

“Good.” Geoff smiled, tired but kind. His arm lifted, an invitation. “C’mere.”

Griffon was already snuggling in on Geoff’s other side, settling into almost the exact same position she’d been with Gavin. It was clearly her favorite way to sleep. And it did look nice. Secure.

Gavin knew that he could beg off and go back to his room with no harm done. Geoff wasn’t dragging him down; it was his decision to make.

He decided to see if sleeping against Geoff was really as great as Griffon seemed to think. He slid in close, imitating her pose with a leg wrapped around one of Geoff’s, his head against Geoff’s shoulder. His arm had nowhere to go but across Geoff’s chest, and Gavin had never been this close to another man’s chest and, by extension, rough chest hair. It wasn’t as bothersome as the beard, at least, and Gavin found himself surprisingly comfortable after shifting around a bit.

He could see Griffon watching him with one eye open as he settled in, giving him another one of her sweet smiles. She reached out, cupped a hand loosely around Gavin’s neck after tweaking his ear.

It was warm,  _really  _warm. When he made a soft noise, Geoff kicked the blankets down, letting the cooler air in.

 _Perfect_ , Gavin thought, and shut his eyes.

* * *

“So, when will we have you back again?” Burnie asked Gavin over food after a podcast recording.

“I’ve got another month here, then I dust off the Phantom for a few shoots, and I’ll be back,” Gavin explained. “Just need a bit to do some filming and see Dan.”

Burnie nodded and passed the syrup. It was pancakes for lunch, as he sometimes treated Gavin to. That Gavin’s de facto breakfast-for-lunch meal was three different types of waffles didn’t phase him, though the waiter had looked concerned when Gavin had specified all three orders were for him. “Going to destroy more things in slow motion?”

“Well, you know.”

“When you get back.” Burnie started to tuck into his significantly smaller meal as he spoke. “I know you weren’t thrilled with being put on Geoff’s team, and since they’re starting to look for more talent, I figured I should offer...” He twirled a hand in the air. “I mean, you’ve got the skills to pay the bills, Gav. We could put you on anything.”

Gavin nodded slowly, gaze on his plate as he dismantled his food methodically, preparing it to be shoveled into his face. “I wasn’t thrilled at first, but...” He shrugged. “I mean, do you need me somewhere else?”

“You can slot in with any branch of the company at this point--”

“But am I  _needed  _outside of Achievement Hunter?”

Burnie frowned; perhaps he’d expected Gavin to leap at the chance to be reassigned. “No, I guess not.”

Gavin smiled. “Well, I think I’m needed at Achievement Hunter. Jack needs someone to take out his frustrations on and Geoff would go mental if he had to pick up the editing slack. God knows the poor saps they hire are going to need to learn everything from scratch.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He smiled reassuringly. “I mean, you want me to help out anywhere, tell me, but I’m fine keeping my core responsibilities if it’s all the same to you.”

Burnie nodded in agreement, but his face was still set into a perplexed frown. “If that’s what you want. I’m just-- you aren’t sick of Geoff yet? I mean, I only work with Geoff on a fifth of the shit I have to do and I want to file for trial separation sometimes.”

A huge bite of waffle helped suppress the expression on Gavin’s face, which he imagined couldn’t have been good for his boss to see. The thought had crossed his mind more and more as of late, especially as the complexity of his relationship with Geoff deepened. The man was his immediate supervisor, co-commentator, host, carpool, best friend, and the person who sometimes put a collar on him and called him a  _good boy_.

Yet he didn’t feel tired of him. Each fumbling step down the rabbit hole that the Ramseys were tripping him down felt new and vibrant and exciting, and Gavin had a feeling there was more on the way.

So he shook his head. “Fair points all around, but I’m good.”

* * *

He should have known something was up when he asked Geoff, “D’you want to pick some bevs up on the way home?” and Geoff shook his head, “Nah, not tonight.”

It was a Friday night. That should’ve been a red alert on its own.

Gavin did catch on that something was going on when he pulled one of the few remaining beers out of the fridge, popped the cap off, and watched it vanish from his hands. Griffon liberated him of it, putting it right back in the fridge.

“It’s... the foam,” Gavin said faintly.

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll use it for stew or something.” She linked her fingers through his and pulled him away. “Let’s get out of Geoff’s way, okay?”

They sorted through the Netflix queue as Geoff busied himself in the kitchen with dinner, taking turns offering options and vetoing each other until settling on what to watch. At Griffon’s suggestion, they pulled the cushions off the sofa and set them on the floor around the coffee table for seating. Griffon made three tall Shirley  _fucking  _Temples, even giving him the one with extra cherries. For a second, Gavin was almost repelled by the wholesomeness of it, something so foreign to the Ramsey household.

But the smirk Griffon gave him as she passed him the drink was anything but chaste. The maraschino cherry held between her teeth split with a wet, lush sound as she watching Gavin’s reaction closely.

Gavin’s reaction was to pull his drink in close, silently bemoan the fact it was entirely non-alcoholic, and hide behind it.

When Geoff walked in with curried chicken and sweet potato fries, settling down between Gavin and Griffon, Gavin thought it’d help him keep his head. Griffon once called Geoff his security blanket and it was mortifying how true that assessment was. Geoff was a walking safe zone most days.

Tucked up close to the Ramseys around the tiny table as they ate and watched telly was not as soothing as Gavin expected. There wasn’t enough room for everyone’s legs, and Geoff had no compunctions about grabbing Gavin’s and rearranging him so his feet were basically spread over someone’s lap (it was hard to tell who’s in that cramped space). His hands stayed on Gavin, idly running over his calf, drumming fingers on his knee.

Gavin shot Geoff a look, questioning. Geoff just smiled back at him and stole one of his drink’s cherries, pulling it off the stem with his lips.

 _Mr. and Mrs. Ramsey, you’re trying to seduce me_ , Gavin’s brain supplied, making him start laughing nervously out of the blue.

“Gavin,” Griffon said in a level tone, the mischief in her voice faded in favor of something more serious. “Are you all right?”

Was he? His stomach was full of bloody butterflies and electricity was dancing across his skin like that time with the lightning storm and he could feel the weight of their eyes on him every time they looked at him. He felt like he was about to come out of his skin.

But in a good way. In a really good way.

He met Griffon’s eyes like he was making a point just by doing so and nodded.

For the rest of the night, it was the anticipation driving him to distraction. He honestly couldn’t remember what they watched. Instead, the night narrowed down to Geoff’s hands casually feeling up his legs, to Griffon rubbing his shoulders and telling him to relax, to both of his hosts running their hands through his hair. It was a tactile spell being laid on him, leaving Gavin jittery with nervous excitement.

Somehow he managed to help clean up after dinner and somehow he sat through another show or movie or whatever it was that Griffon put on. He made it through without vibrating out of his body. It was a monumental feat.

He was rewarded. Eventually, Griffon went to lock up the house as Geoff got up and declared, “All right, bed time.” He watched Gavin, who remained on the floor for the moment, staring up at Geoff, waiting for more. Geoff’s face creased into a smile. “You can come if you’re going to be good,” he offered, then walked away.

When Gavin went down the hall, the master bedroom’s door was ajar. He didn’t hesitate before letting himself in. He probably should have stopped and thought about the lines he was crossing, but he felt seduced and moreover he  _liked  _that feeling.

Geoff was still undressing for bed, but Griffon was already down to a tank top and boxers, kneeling on the bed when Gavin let himself in. She beamed at him and bent over to root through the side table, retrieving the collar and leash. “Come here, sweetie.”

She took her time, unbuttoning the top of his shirt and pulling it open before dragging her nails over the vulnerable skin of his throat, the pad of one finger against his Adam’s apple as she felt him swallow. “Still okay?”

Gavin nodded. “Yes, I’m fine. You can...” His eyes shut as Griffon finally wrapped the collar around his neck. “You don’t need to keep checking. I’m good.”

“Understood.” Her hands wrapped around his neck, thumbs finding the sensitive point behind his ear and beginning to brush his hair back. “Geoff? A hand, please?”

“I’ll give you two,” Geoff said from behind Gavin. As Griffon kept petting him, holding him still where he was, Geoff finished unbuttoning his shirt, peeling it off to the floor. Said hands moved to his belt, and Gavin twitched in surprise even though he knew it was the next step.

Geoff pressed his palm flat against Gavin’s stomach, pulling him back. Gavin squeaked when his back lay flush against Geoff’s chest; the man put off heat like a furnace. “Calm down there, boy.”

“S-sorry.”

“It’s okay, Gav. We’ve got you,” Griffon said as she took over her husband’s work, undoing Gavin’s trousers and pushing them down. He was let to keep his boxers, though it was hard to say if that was actually a good thing. It may have been just easier to lose it all at once if only to get the bloody teasing over.

“Socks off,” Geoff said.

“No, leave them!” Griffon protested. “It’s cute.”

Everything shifted from playful into something much more intense when Griffon wrapped the leash around her fist and pulled. Gavin climbed onto the bed, but she kept pulling, laying back on the bed and guiding him along. For a second, he tried to keep balanced above her, avoiding contact, but that only meant that when she tugged him down insistently, it was all at once: her stomach, her legs, her breasts, all underneath his bare skin.

And her mouth on his. She kept his lips on hers through the simple expedience of stretching her arms up, stretching him out over him. Gavin wanted to look back at Geoff, to make sure that this was all right, that he was allowed, but the pressure around his neck was doing something to his brain. It was like he was being pulled down past all of the inhibitions and the second-guessing, an effect that usually only came after his BAC got high enough.

So he just kissed her back, open-mouthed and shameless. If he misstepped, he’d take the direction or the punished they dished out in return.

“As pretty as this is.” Geoff’s arm went around Gavin’s waist, pulling him up onto his knees, back once again against Geoff.

Griffon followed, helping sandwich Gavin between them. “Leash off, you think?”

“Nah, not this time. Though if you wanna get your boobs ready to distract him?”

Griffon chuckled, reaching down to pull her tank off and yes there were breasts out. “Such a team player.”

“Then you’re MVP.” Gavin let out a low whinge, and Geoff laughed. “All right, shush.” His mouth was right at Gavin’s ear, the scratch of his beard catching along Gavin’s neck. That along with Griffon kissing him against wasn’t  _quite  _enough to distract when Geoff’s hand slid into his boxers, squeezing his arse in a grip that was absolutely going to leave an interesting bruise. Gavin couldn’t not notice the slickness either and scrambled to grab onto whatever he could reach, namely Griffon’s shoulder and Geoff’s leg.

“Here, let’s--” Griffon moved everyone around so she was flush against Gavin’s front, one leg wedged between his legs, her hands taking over arse-groping duty while Geoff worked. It was fucking  _hot  _in more than one way, and Gavin felt the sweat break over his skin at the manhandling and the proximity.

It was difficult to keep track of who was touching him where, let alone where his own limbs had fucked off to. Everything narrowed down to the fact that Geoff had his tongue plunging into Gavin’s mouth and his finger working by tiny thrusts into Gavin while Griffon whispered in his ear nonsensical platitudes and encouragements.

“Oh, fuck,” Gavin said, taking in huge gulps of air when Geoff let him. “Oh,  _ffffuck_.”

“That,” Geoff said in a low drawl as he worked his fingers further in, “is the idea, yeah.”

Gavin’s words failed him, leaving him making half-throttled keening noises, his head against Geoff’s shoulder, back curving at the weird pressure and tightness. It was overwhelming, and distantly he was grateful for that because he had no room in his mind to panic about having someone’s finger in his arse.

Wait. Fingers. Plural.

His focus on that was broken when Griffon gasped quietly. “Oh! That’s the surgery scar. Does it hurt?” She’d gotten his boxers down and before Gavin could even answer, her hands, soft with callouses that Gavin could feel vividly against his skin, were exploring his cock, touching around the scar tissue.

Gavin only stayed on his knees thanks to Geoff holding him in place. He shuddered and completely failed not to push up into Griffon’s hands and back into Geoff.

“That’s Gavin for  _no, it doesn’t hurt ,_” Geoff translated helpfully.

“I got that, yeah.” She kissed Gavin then, stroking his cock, thumb settling in over the scar to work it in tandem. He kissed back, uncoordinated and messy, feeling his whole body lighting up like fireworks as he hung between them and let it wash over him.

Griffon kept him on the edge for a painfully long time, too often deciding to pet the hair on his chest appreciatively or to squeezing his arse when Gavin was tantalizingly close. Eventually, Geoff said, “He’s good,” and it was time for manhandling again.

Settled back against the pillows, Griffon kicked off the rest of her clothes, curtly telling Gavin, “Boxers off, now,” in a voice that shot fire down Gavin’s spine. It took a moment to comply since his brain had long since leaked out his ears, never to be seen again (he assumed, anyway). “Socks stay,” she reminded him before catching the hanging leash and pulling him over. “Lay down on your back, right here.”

“It’d be easier with him on all-fours,” Geoff commented.

“I want a better show than that.” She patted her chest, and Gavin crawled over, laying down as instructed. Her knees brackets him and propped up with his head against her breasts gave him a fucking obscene view of himself. He tried to wiggle around only for her to take away the leash’s slack, keeping him close. “Stay.”

Fucking  _fuck_ , it couldn’t be normal, to get that turned on just by someone taking you in hand and telling you exactly how they wanted you. And yet.

His wrists were gathered up in her hands, pulled up and back. Somehow that was that much more vulnerable, being spread out like that as Geoff knee-walked over to settle in front of Gavin. It was messing with him, the mix of being laid out for the taking and being in the company of the two people he trusted most in the world.

Geoff shot a look over Gavin’s head, and Griffon suddenly let go of Gavin’s wrists, instead running her hand through his hair, pulling it back from his forehead. Geoff, as casually as a man with his cock just hanging out could, started to rub Gavin’s legs, starting at the ankle and gliding along to his knee, then back again.

Gavin found he could breathe again and frowned. “Hey, now... I’m fine.”

“You look it.”

“I am!”

“Okay,” Geoff agreed easily as he rolled on a condom. Then pulled Gavin’s leg up, around his hips, nudging his cock against Gavin’s arse.

Gavin yelped, and tried to brace himself, but Griffon got him by the wrists again and Geoff held him steady by with a broad grip on each of his hips. His fingers wrapped back enough that Gavin hissed through his teeth as the bruises Griffon had put on his arse cheek stung.

Back to spread out and vulnerable, but this time he was ready. Griffon’s hands holding him pinned on his back like an overturned turtle were welcome and Geoff lining up his cock was-- yeah, intimidating, but nothing he couldn’t handle.

“Don’t hold your breath,” Griffon told him as Geoff rose up on his knees, pulling Gavin with him (fucking hell, had Geoff always been that strong?) and pushing in. Gavin watched, completely absorbed for a moment as Geoff’s dick slid into him, until the sensation hit him like a tidal wave and he was abruptly gripping Griffon’s hands, holding on.

“ _Breathe_ , Gav.” She was ordering him this time.

He exhaled hard, luckily too wrapped up with the stretch and slide to care about the sounds he was making. “Aaaaauh, oh my god, oh  _fuck_.”

“Christ, he’s tight,” Geoff groaned, pulling out what felt like five feet of cock before pushing back in. “Oh, good boy, you’re such a good boy, you’re fucking  _amazing_.”

He knew he was tight, could feel how slow Geoff was going, how he was holding Gavin’s hips still as he worked deeper and deeper into him. It was-- was considerate in an erotic way. Gavin’s eyes rolled around, finding Griffon watching his face with a flush on her own cheeks, her lower lip bit hard.

She kissed his face when he looked at her. “You look perfect like this. Laying back and taking it, you’re hot as fuck.”

Gavin smiled, wanting to preen, but a shudder rocked through him, another one of those embarrassing, high-pitched keens ripping out of him.

“There,” Geoff said indistinctly, hauling Gavin’s legs up over his shoulders and pushing in, fast and hard. Griffon grabbed Gavin’s shoulders, holding him, keeping him from sliding away from the force of it. Hands freed, Gavin fisted his hands in the blankets until it hurt. It was nothing compared to the hot pleasure running through him, curling deep in his belly.

A hand wrapped around his dick, pulling in time with Geoff’s thrusts. Gavin could feel behind him, Griffon’s other arm insinuating between her legs. That she was getting off on this, watching her husband fuck Gavin silly, was like a fucking depth charge to his libido. He came with zero warning, just gone between one heartbeat and the next, entire body arching, muscles pulling tight, tension seizing him

and then letting go all at once.

“ _Je_ sus fucking--” Geoff tucked up over Gavin, buried in, and released, just as fast and sudden. He sagged over Gavin after, boneless and heavy. “Hot damn, that was...”

“Yeah,” Griffon said with a breathy sigh. “That went better than expected.” Her hand brushed through Geoff’s hair affectionately, a weary smile curving her lips.

Geoff batted her hand away. “Don’t put your girl spunk in my fucking hair.”

“Yeah, like you’re going to bed without a fucking shower first,” she shot back, gesturing to the mess squashed between him and Gavin.

Geoff snorted, but nodded in agreement. His eyes found Gavin’s. “Hey.”

Gavin fucking beamed at him, to hell with any lingering awkwardness or worry. “That was fucking  _top_.”

A full laugh rumbled out of Geoff. “Easy for you, you just had to lie back and accept the gift of my cock.” He leaned in to kiss Gavin, then Griffon. “Okay. Showers, then time to sleep ten hours.”

* * *

It ended up being more like twelve hours for Gavin. And what’s more, when he woke up, he was still  _exhausted_. Not physically; there he was fine, his body humming happily in the wake of having gotten it’s occasional orgasm.

No, it was a deep grogginess that made the act of opening his eyes a monumental task. It would have been very easy to just roll over and go back to sleep, but the sound around him resolved slowly into voices.

“There’s a few interesting ones. Jack and I have a lot of footage to go through. Might pull someone in as an intern and see how that works.”

“Are we going to put them up?”

“Fuck no. We did the halfway house for new employees bullshit already. Jack’ll take ‘em this time.”

Gavin rolled over and blinked his eyes open. He was still in bed, and so were the Ramseys, both of them sitting up in bed. The telly was on, but muted as they talked.

Griffon noticed Gavin’s return to consciousness first. “Well, good morning sunshine.”

“Technically afternoon,” Geoff pointed out.

“Nngh,” Gavin said, throwing an arm over his eyes.

Griffon laughed. “Yeah, cherry popping takes it out of you.”

“Which you might’ve mentioned, you know. I always assumed you and Dan...” When Gavin peeked at Geoff, he was making an obscene gesture with his hands.

“Or at least,” Griffon made a different obscene gesture, more oral-centric.

Gavin snorted and shook his head. “Not--” He coughed, caught by how dry his throat was. “Not interested.”

“You or him?” Gavin shrugged, flushing at the thought. “Fair enough.”

He made to sit up, wanting a drink like he’d not had one in weeks. He winced as he did, reaching back to rub sensitive areas.

Geoff’s eyes lit up, delighted. “What? Did my penis rock your world so hard you’ll never recover?”

“No, but I think I have Griffon’s bloody handprints on each cheek.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Griffon’s smile was like a jungle cat’s, sharp and dangerous enough that Gavin forgot how breathing worked for a second. She slipped away from Geoff and over to Gavin, touching him with just one hand on his chest. “I didn’t mean to, especially not with how good you were last night.” Her nails scratched through his hair as her hand trailed down. “Let me make it up to you?”

That was  _not  _helping his morning wood. Or, it was really helping it, rather.

“Erm.” He looked to Geoff, who was-- all right, he was watching with a fairly ravenous look on his face. That was a go ahead, clearly.

Griffon kissed him, just a press of lips, and Gavin inhaled sharply before putting his hands on her shoulders. She’d not gotten dressed again and he’d not gotten the chance to really feel her skin before. There was so much ink and paint laid into her, it was  _strange  _that running a hand down her arm revealed only smoothness. There was no texture to all the tattoos. He thought that was a shame.

Before his brain had quite caught up, Griffon was in his lap, kissing him hard, tipping his head back and biting the corner of his mouth. He wasn’t sure where his hands were meant to go; it was a complete flip of last night, when he knew precisely what to do while being in way over his head. He wanted-- Griffon, obviously, because honestly. But...

Bloody hell, it wasn’t like he’d never shagged someone before. Gavin gathered his wits and started to get with the program, letting his hands roam. Griffon’s squeezed him back, and the idea of the marks she was leaving was enticing. Every time he saw the Ramseys’ bare arms, he wanted just a little of the art they’d adorned themselves with, daydreamed of pressing his skin to theirs in hopes the designs would transfer like biro ink.

He was getting distracted. He didn’t know  _how  _it was happening, but he wasn’t doing this right. He wasn’t being a good boy, and it was-- nerve-wracking. There was a sudden tension lancing through him, and he couldn’t stop thinking about his poor performance and he was spiraling from it, unable to pull out of his nose dive and  _fix  _it because it was all he could think about and he didn’t want to fuck this up, this strange amazing thing he’d discovered.

Gavin pulled back, shutting his eyes tight and panting in a woefully not-sexy way. “Uh...  _fuck_ , brakes, I-I--”

It was like a switch was flipped and before he knew it Griffon slid off him. “Okay, sweetie.”

But it wasn’t-- he forgot the other word, and he was  _fine  _until he realized he forgot the word. It was an important word, they’d made that clear to him, and he’d made it into a bit of a joke and now he’d forgotten the punchline. “Breaks, breaks, sorry, I don’t--”

“Geoff,” Griffon said suddenly, and Gavin felt two pairs of hands on him, urging him down on his back. “We’ve got you, Gavin, we understand.”

“I-I forgot,” he tried to explain.

His head was in Geoff’s lap all of a sudden, the man watching him from above, face upside-down. “Full stop, we know. It’s okay, Gav.” Geoff’s big, warm hands framed his face, keeping their eyes on each other, and he didn’t look upset. Not even slightly. Maybe Gavin just couldn’t read upset on upside-down faces.

“Hey. Hey.” Geoff shooks Gavin’s face lightly. “Deep breaths, stupid, it’s okay.” And he started breathing in and out slowly. Feeling embarrassed but grateful, Gavin followed his lead.

The panic subsided. It’d hit so fast and out of nowhere, he hadn’t quite noticed it, but with Geoff holding onto him and watching over him, the heat left his bloodstream. It left him feeling hollow and bereft, but immeasurably better than five minutes prior.

He hadn’t realized Griffon left until she came back, still naked but holding a tall glass. “How’re we doing?”

Geoff had a habit of answering questions on Gavin’s behalf, had done it for ages. It was telling that didn’t kick in, and instead Geoff waited on Gavin along with Griffon.

“I’m... Griffon, I’m so sorry--”

“Hey, stop right there, Gavin.” She carefully climbed back onto the bed. Geoff pulled Gavin up into a sitting position, tucking in against his back so he could keep holding Gavin with a loose grip. “You had your first full scene last night and you were perfect. But this is still new for you. Rule two exists for a reason.” She handed him the glass. “Drink.”

It was ginger ale, fizzy, but thirst quenching and a balm to his stomach. He drained the glass. “I’m... all right. Feel a little strange. Stretched out. Tired.”

Griffon nodded and leaned in to kiss his forehead. It was odd but nice, that small show of affection delivered while he was curled up against Geoff. She might’ve been onto something with that security blanket theory.

“I’m still really sorry about,” Gavin cleared his throat and nodded to Griffon in her all-together.

She waved a hand. “Not important. We just wanted to be sure you’re good.”

“I am. I could...” He leaned forward only for Griffon to push him back.

“Gavin, I appreciate it, but I have more than one toy in my drawer. I don’t want to wear you out.”

Should he’ve been perturbed at being referred to as a toy? Eh. He’d add it to the long, long list of things that probably should’ve garnered protest from him only for him to not care much about.

“Besides,” she said, looking at Geoff, “I have a husband for times like this.”

“Oh, is that why we got married?” Geoff might’ve been going for annoyed but Gavin could feel how he, well. Stood to attention when Griffon called. No sell.

“Gavin, sweetie, are you okay? Need anything? No?” She smirked and crooked a finger at Geoff. “Put the twink down and get to work.”

Geoff waited for Gavin to extricate himself before giving Griffon his attention. “Maybe said twink likes being ordered around by you, but I’m not that guy.”

The eyebrow she raised at him said multitudes, many Gavin couldn’t make sense of. The Ramseys did that sometimes, probably one of the benefits of years of marriage. “Well, in that case,” she leaned over to reach the bedside table. “I  _do  _have other toys. Let’s see...”

Gavin was curious what exactly was in that drawer, but never got the chance to see; Geoff caught Griffon, dragging her across the bed and away from the edge. She squealed, kicking her feet at Geoff. He pinned them down and leaned down to bite at her stomach, muffled growls coming from him. Griffon threw her head back, laughing brightly, the muscles of her abdomen tensing as Geoff started to raise red marks across them.

Gavin watched for a moment, still laying there as he rested from what happened. It was-- okay, thinking about it like porn didn’t work because it was Geoff and Griffon, that was weird. Maybe he should’ve looked away or excused himself, but watching Geoff go down on Griffon was pretty great.

He had a moment of vivid clarity, pure understanding of just how off the rails his life had gone as he laid there, sucking on ice cubes and watching his best friends fuck while he lay in their bed recovering from playing their-- what? Their pet? Sub? Sub sounded like the term.

The thing was that in the long series of inexplicable turns his life had taken since he was a stupid kid playing  _Halo  _and torrenting videos off the internet, this wasn’t so unusual.

Comparatively, anyway.

Gavin propped himself up on an elbow and waited for the Ramseys to have their go, hoping he could convince them to go out to lunch after. He wanted food.

Though, he thought with a smirk, Geoff probably wouldn’t be hungry when he was done.

* * *

“I cannot believe you have me editing today,” Gavin said peevishly as he finalized his project on Final Cut and watched it render.

“I cannot believe you thought you’d get out of it,” Geoff replied airly. “You’ve got time before your flight.”

“Which I could be spending back home sleeping to get my schedule fixed before I fly for ten hours. Or I could be saying goodbye to everyone in the office. Or I could sneak in one more podcast recording.” Gavin spun in his chair to glare up at Geoff. “Basically anything other than being your bloody helper monkey.”

“Oh, shut up, you like being helpful.” Geoff was smiling, and to anyone but them it was Geoff’s usual brand of brushing aside complaints when he didn’t want to handle them. To Gavin, though, it made his ears turn red as he had a sharp, bright flash to last night and just how right Geoff was.

Gavin quickly found something else to look at, clearing his throat as Geoff grinned. It was probably for the best that he was going back to England for a while; the trip would be good to decompress, to get used to the idea that he’d be coming back to a home, and that he’d have people waiting for him. It was a nice feeling, almost overwhelming in how it made him simply _happy_.

It was Griffon who was taking him to the airport, and despite his complaining about being put to work on what could’ve been a day off, the time to leave came too soon. Gavin accepted a pat on the arm from Jack and a full bearhug from Geoff as he got his coat, ready to go.

“I’ll be back soon,” he reminded Geoff when the hug lingered.

“Not too soon. We need time to turn your room into a man cave. Maybe a yoga room.”

Gavin punched him in the arm and broke away. “I’ll miss you, too, Geoffrey.”

Geoff shoved him towards the door where Griffon was waiting. “Oh, get the fuck out. Have a nice flight. Try not to break your dick or nose while you’re gone.”

Griffon nodded solemnly. “They are your best features.”

Jack, from his desk, groaned. “Thanks for making me think of Gavin’s weird dick, guys. Geoff, come on, we’ve got footage to look at if we’re going to hire one of these idiots.”

With a dramatic gasp, Gavin put a hand over his heart. “But I thought I was your editing monkey!”

“Hey. Shoo. Flight. Have fun, tell Dan I said hi, and get your ass back here ASAP,” Geoff said, pointing in the approximate direction of England. It wasn’t quite his commanding voice, but Gavin obeyed anyway.

He walked out into the hot crush of Austin air, breathing it in deep like he could carry that taste of  _home  _with like a lifeline all the way to England.

But when Griffon linked her arm through his and drew him away, he knew this time he wouldn’t need it.


	2. and to my knees you do promote me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Michael Jones proceeds to ruin Gavin's life, many sweet things are had, Geoff gives a speech, and Griffon is the only person who knows what she's doing.

It was summertime again when Gavin climbed out of his taxi and dragged his luggage up into the Rooster Teeth building. The temperature difference from outside to in the aura of the A/C was phenomenal, enough that he almost expected to see the sweat on his skin having flash frozen. Twelve hours ago, he’d been excited for Austin and its sunlight and its warmth coming back into his life. He just wished his return hadn’t fallen in the middle of a bloody Texas heat wave.

But he could deal. He was home.

It was still almost in the lunch break period of the day, so when Gavin poked his head into the Achievement Hunter office, he wasn’t sure who to expect. Jack was out, but Geoff was at his desk, texting someone with his phone. He didn’t look up at Gavin’s arrival, though the _other_ person in the room did. He was a bespectacled bloke with a hat pulled low over messy brown hair, freckles, and dark eyes. There was a youthful softness to him that paired oddly well with the expression of low-grade irritation that graced his face.

New bloke looked ready to ask Gavin who he was or something harsh, but Geoff stood up and crossed the room to Gavin with a long stride. “Hey! You! Where’s your fucking green card, asshole?”

Gavin raised his eyebrows and set his bag down so he could pat down his pockets. “Hang on, haaaang on a tic.” He rooted around his pockets. “I got it, it’s right here.” And pulled out a V-sign, flipping it at Geoff.

Geoff snorted. “What, you come in peace? Not likely, ya redcoat bastard.”

“No, you knob,” Gavin said, rolling his eyes. He turned his hand the other way. “This is peace.” And back. “ _This_ is sod off.”

“You’re in America again, act like it.” And before Gavin could come up with a witty response for that, Geoff had him in a bearhug, lifting him easily off the ground. Gavin yelped, grabbing onto Geoff’s shoulders and kicking his legs.

“Geoffrey!”

“Welcome back, buddy. Knew you’d miss my big, strong, manly arms.”

“Choking!” He squeaked, and nearly fell on his ass when he was released. “Hurk...”

“So... this is Gavin, then,” new bloke commented dryly as Gavin leaned over, coughing. Bloody hair-trigger gag reflex.

“This is indeed Gavin.” Geoff rubbed Gavin’s back. “Don’t mind him, his body is like a PS3.”

New bloke seemed to contemplate this. “It needs a system update every time you turn the fucking thing on?”

“Close. It looks good, but the infrastructure’s so fucked it barely functions.”

Finally calm, Gavin straightened. “Thank you, Geoff, I appreciate it.” He shoved Geoff aside, giving the other man his attention. “Hello. I’m Gavin Free.” He slid into his chair, ready to glide across the room and offer the man his hand in an _incredibly_ graceful and impressive fashion. “And who might-- _Whaoooooh_!”

The chair rolled about five inches before the wheels all rattled loose in unison and the entire thing tipped sideways, spilling Gavin onto the floor.

Geoff howled. “That was beautiful! _Beautiful_! Oh, jesus, Jack is going to be furious he missed that! Gavin, you stupid shit!”

Gavin rolled onto his back, clutching his stomach and coughing. “Th-that hurt...” And it didn’t hurt a lot, but still.

Honestly, he should’ve expected that.

New bloke was staring down at him, and Gavin wouldn’t have guessed his face could get even more unimpressed, but he’d managed it. “Wow. That was fucking majestic.”

“I, erm.”

“Michael. I’m Michael.” He turned back to his work station, shaking his head. “They’re doing the podcast in a half hour, dude. You better get over there.”

“Wha--?” Gavin looked up at Geoff, who winced.

“Yeah, Burnie and Gus want you to stop in. We can head home after, though?”

Gavin sighed and hauled himself up to his feet. “Good. I’m going to need a drink.”

And that was how Gavin Free met Michael Jones. Not the greatest first impression, but, well.

Start as you mean to go on, right?

 

* * *

 

“So is he always like that?”

“Who?”

“New bloke. Rage Quit.”

Geoff looked up from the grill he was working. It was late in the evening and Geoff was making dinner in classic Texan style-- barbeque. It was exactly what Gavin wanted for his first night back home; blackened burgers, foil-wrapped potatoes, and a whiskey on the rocks. The air smelled strongly of hickory and the citrus tang from the mosquito lamps. Gavin lay in the grass, his laptop propped up on his lap. In the fading light of the day, the glare on the screen just barely manageable enough so he could watch some of the videos he’d missed-- namely, Michael’s.

“You mean pissy like someone kicked his dog? Well, less so as soon as you stop calling him Rage Quit.”

“He doesn’t like that?”

“Not so much,” he said ruefully, and Gavin could tell there was a story there. “He’s an excitable little shit, but a good kid. Like you, but Jersey-flavored.”

“And I thought we had something special,” Gavin drawled, queuing up another video.

“You have no idea how hard it was to hire a new twink. People don’t list experience as a sub on their fucking resumes.”

“Ha ha.”

“Cheer up, asshole. You’re home, you have alcohol, you’re about to have my delicious food in you, and tomorrow you can try again with Michael.”

Gavin nodded sullenly, queuing up another video. He was working his way through it, suppressing the urge to smile at the sheer brilliant _fury_ Michael slung through his words and tone, when Griffon appeared and shut his laptop with one hand. “Sweetie,” she greeted warmly and leaned in to kiss him.

He smiled, returning it with easy affection. “Hi, Griffon.” She smelled even more strongly of sawdust than usual, so he took a stab in the dark; “How’s the FORT going?”

“You can come by sometime and see for yourself. I could use you and your legs in a fashion show.” She settled back in the grass. “Dinner ready, husband?”

“Yeah, about.” He started to pile the meat onto kaiser rolls. “Gavin met Michael today.”

“Oh, that’s good. We had him over for dinner one night.” She accepted a plate from Geoff. “Quiet kid, oddly enough.”

“Good at editing, too,” Geoff said, bringing his and Gavin’s food before joining them. 

Gavin snorted. “Hoorah, then.”

“Oh, quit it.” Geoff kicked him in the shoe. “You knew AH was going to be a thing. Don’t be a baby.”

“I’m not!”

“You really are. Look, Gav, you’ve been back for, what, six hours? Maybe hold off on this shit until you’ve settled back in.”

That was a fair point. Gavin nodded a little sullenly and tucked into his food. He had time to work things out and re-carve out his spot in Rooster Teeth. And maybe he’d made a mortifyingly bad first impression but tomorrow was another day and he had the rest of the week waiting for him. Gavin had a long-standing habit of fumbling at the go, but he always recovered in time. It’d be fine.

“All right,” Gavin said. “So. Welcome home shagging, yeah?” Which was a little blunt, but the Ramsey household was not a place for excessive tact.

“Nope.” Griffon shook her head. “Not until... when did we say?”

“A week at least.” Geoff was more focused on fighting with the sea salt shaker than anything though.

“What? A week? Why a week?”

“Re-acclimate first, then we’ll see.”

Gavin looked sullenly down at his food, which still looked delicious but somehow less so now.

“Oh god, he’s pouting. Griffon, put the fucking collar on him just so we can order him not to pout.”

He fluttered his eyelashes at Geoff. “And what if I disobey?”

“Then it’ll be two weeks.”

Gavin scoffed. “Nevermind, fine. I can wait.” He’d clear his schedule for it if he had to. Usually anticipation was a wondrous magical thing but now it just sucked.

 

* * *

 

The next week was... interesting.

Geoff, because he was one of the most phenomenally kind men Gavin knew while simultaneously being a sadistic asshole, decided that the way to really cement Michael into the AH family was for him to do some videos with Gavin, who was already established. The fact that Gavin had been gone for the past however long was apparently not a good counter argument.

Pointing that out aloud while Michael was in the room to hear, however, was a _great_ way to further endear himself to his new coworker. Really. There was no awkwardness at all as Gavin plugged in a second microphone to Michael’s computer.

Gavin tried to recover. “Sorry about that. We didn’t quite get off on the right foot so I -- I figured --”

“It’s fine,” Michael said. “Do you need help?” The question was slow and incredulous, like the fact that Gavin had dropped the plug thrice as he tried to get it in was a sign of serious brain damage or something.

“No! No, it’s fine!” Gavin laughed, forced and painful. The microphone’s light finally came on, thank fuck, and Gavin pulled over his (now repaired) chair. “Sorry, I’ve been out a while, might be rusty.”

“Have you even played LA Noire?”

“Uh. I’ve not really had the time. Been filming things? On location a lot?”

“Yeah, but...” Michael’s brow furrowed. “It’s _Rockstar_.”

“I have a backlog!” After work. He’d borrow Geoff’s copy as soon as he got home. Rockstar games were never very long if you skipped the side-missions. He could mainline it before morning, surely.

“Okay. Fuck, okay.” Michael pulled up the video, synced audio, and said, “Just follow my lead.”

Gavin nodded, but under the desk his fingers were digging into his legs. He’d have to talk to Geoff; Michael just didn’t seem to _like_ him, right off the bat, and Gavin usually didn’t care who did or didn’t like him, but if Michael was really a permanent addition... this was not good. At all.

Geoff, who wasn’t kind at all, who was a _fucking prick_ , just shrugged and inexplicably assigned Gavin to help Michael edit his videos. “I mean, you haven’t recorded anything yet so you may as well help him with his shit.”

And so Gavin was privileged enough to stay late at the office, sitting at his desk next to Michael as he worked, hoping he wouldn’t notice the number of times Gavin looked askance at him.

Trying not to be too obvious about it, Gavin pulled out his phone and texted Griffon, hoping for a more sympathetic soul.

_can i get a pickup?_

The response was fast, but came from Geoff’s number.

_don’t fucking appeal to my wife to play good cop. will pick u up when vid is ULed._

Gavin sighed and tucked the phone away. Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught Michael looking at him, frowning. It wasn’t his annoyed frown, thankfully, but the mildly perturbed one. 

That was the funny thing about Geoff forcing them to work together in the name of team camaraderie or his own amusement; it did not take long for Gavin to discover that Michael’s default state was frowning. But he did it with such variety, Gavin couldn’t help keeping track of the many shades of Michael Jones’ frowns. There was so much nuance in how much his eyebrows pulled together, the narrowing of his eyes, the amount of color in his cheeks, and the degree of downward curve to his mouth.

If Gavin could film Michael’s frowns, he knew he could chart them easily with the help of a camera’s eternal eye. And besides, they were interesting and deserved to be preserved. 

In the wake of _that_ strange train of thought, Gavin got up. “D’you want a drink?”

Michael shot him the Confused And Not Annoyed Yet But Potentially Soon frown. “What?”

“I need a bev and it’s almost eight o’clock. I thought you might want one too?” He smiled in what he hoped was a harmless, friendly manner.

Michael didn’t answer, turning his frown to his monitor. His fingers tapped lightly on the desk.

“Come on, now. You work at Rooster Teeth, you learn to raid the liquor cabinet after office hours,” Gavin said encouragingly. “What do you like?”

Michael’s gaze dropped and he shrugged. “I don’t want anything.” Gavin’s face fell, but, “No. Uh. Get me something weird. And cold. I need a cold drink.”

Gavin nodded. “Got it. Hang on a tic then.” He nearly tripped over a spare cord laying across the floor in his haste, but managed to save it before he hit the ground. It was fine, Michael already knew he wasn’t coordinated. The important thing was that he said yes and Gavin couldn’t avoid seeing that as an opportunity to score some points.

He opened the liquor cabinet (also know as the entire top two shelves in the kitchen) and surveyed his options. He wasn’t good at mixing cocktails, so that was out. The new unopened bourbon was Geoff’s and Gavin knew better than to break the seal on his bottles. He could go simple and just put something over ice, but...

Gavin _really_ wanted to impress Michael. So he checked in the fridge, looking for something to catch his eye. Just beers.

“Balls to it,” he muttered and went to raid the Drunk Tank’s minifridge. That was where the more interesting items wound up anyway.

Returning to Michael, Gavin had a bottle under one arm and two tumblers (pilfered from Burnie’s office) of ice held between his fingers.

Michael shot him a sour look. “Thought you got lost. Was about to send a search party.”

Gavin grinned. “Aw, sweet of you but you need not worry.” He saw Michael already winding up to explain he _wasn’t_ worried, thanks, and steamrolled through. “So! Drinks.” He set the glasses down and unscrewed the bottle, though not until he gave it a vigorous shake.

“Did you get fucking Baileys?” The contempt in Michael’s voice was plain.

“No, of course not.” Gavin poured. “This was sent in, it’s rum cream. It’s like... like if Bailey’s wasn’t rubbish. Hey,” he pointed at Michael accusingly. “You wanted weird. You can’t get good rum cream in the States, even.”

“All right, sorry to insult your pride there, man,” Michael muttered and picked up his tumbler.

Before he could try the drink, Gavin held out his glass hopefully. And oh, that was a new frown, perhaps it was his Just Had A Bev Interrupted frown. It made Gavin snicker.

“You are weird,” Michael said quietly, but clicked his glass against Gavin’s. Both drank, Gavin sipping while Michael took a gulp and subsequently coughed. “ _Shit_.”

Gavin licked the cream lingering on his lips away. “Mmhm. Sneaks up on you, don’t it?”

“That and how fucking sweet it is.”

“Aw, Michael, come on. Telling me you don’t need a little sweet in your life?” He watched as Michael looked into his glass. “It’s good, right?”

“Yeah.” He took a smaller drink and nodded thoughtfully. “It’s not bad.” Setting the tumbler aside, he spun back to his computer. “Now if you’re done, lets finish this up so I can go to bed.”

He bit his lip as he smiled. “Okay, Michael.”

 

* * *

 

Gavin thought he was getting _somewhere_ with the _Michael Jones is a surly bugger_ problem, having made a successful overture with the late night bevs, but the next day Michael managed to work through without saying more than ten words to Gavin, eight of which were, “Can you shut up, I’m trying to work,” and the rest simple “yes” and “no” responses.

It was starting to really get on his tits.

“I don’t know why I keep trying!” Gavin said from underneath the television stand. There were wires all around him, all of which had to find a home in the wall or the switch box or the telly itself. The room was being rearranged because Griffon was tired of the sun glare hitting the screen in the late afternoon. Why she was making iced tea while Gavin was rewiring was a mystery to him. It certainly wasn’t helping his mood.

Geoff was sitting on the sofa, theoretically there to help reposition everything to avoid glare but really because he was comfy and liked to watch people around him working. It was the leader in him, truly. “I don’t know why either.”

“But the thing is, you see him on videos and he’s not like that!” Gavin went on. “He’s not shouty unless it’s a Rage Quit, and he’s not always a sullen donut. It’s a different...” He waved a hand, then cursed under his breath when the he lost the wire he was threading through the stand. “Energy. Hell, he’s nicer to Jack. _Jack!_ ”

Geoff sighed loudly, like the entire conversation was a blight on his soul. A flair for the dramatics had Geoffrey Ramsey. “Well, he lives with Jack right now. Of course he’s going to play nice. You did with me.”

“I did no such thing.”

“You remember when I nearly broke your arm? Or the lightning storm thing? Or the Forty-Hands night? You were still nice.”

“I was nice to you because I _liked_ you.”

“Oh, bullshit, don’t be a kiss-ass.”

Gavin puckered his lips, making obnoxious kissy noises for a moment. “But no, seriously, why does he hate me? Because I took a bit of a tumble?”

“Here’s a better fucking question: why are you fixating on this? Like, obviously I want you chucklefucks to get along, it’s good for the job, but you are obsessing over this.”

Gavin pressed his mouth shut and focused on what he was doing. He didn’t have a good answer for Geoff was the thing. He _had_ thought of little else since he arrived back home, but there was something about how much of a dislike Michael had taken to him that just... it was perturbing. He’d never been so thrown by someone’s lack of regard for him, and he made his living on the internet; he’d dealt with his share of negative feedback.

And really: Michael liked Jack more than he liked Gavin. That was just... Did Michael not notice the way Gavin spoke? Everyone liked the English accents, he thought. Cheers to James Bond for all his help in transatlantic relations.

Griffon stepped out of the kitchen and took in both the men. “Geoff. Why is Gavin being swallowed by a fiber-optic monster?”

“You wanted the TV moved.”

She put a hand over her face. “Okay. Sorry. Gonna rephrase. Why are you sitting having a beer while Gavin is being swallowed by a fiber-optic monster?”

Gavin sat up and hit his forehead against the television stand. “God -- Geoff said it was my job!”

“I did not!” He teetered into voice-cracking territory. “I walked in and said we had to move the TV.”

“You lying piece of shit, you said _I_ had to move the TV!”

Geoff held up a quelling finger. “Hang on. What I _said_ was that _you and I_ had to move the TV.”

Griffon crossed her arms, giving her husband an arch look. “And when Gav did all the work, you just...?”

“Busy hands keep Lucifer away or whatever.”

Griffon sighed and padded over to Gavin, in two steps managing to change from everyday Griffon into sexy Griffon just by dropping her shoulders a little and swinging her hips. It was a lovely show. “So what I have here is one man who has been a lazy shit and one strapping young man who moved a TV because he knew I wanted to rearrange things and then started to rewire everything, all without complaint.”

Geoff snorted. “You haven’t been listening to him the last fucking hour.” He affected an terrible approximation of Gavin’s accent. “Ouh, Geoffrey, Micool doesn’t loike me! Woe, woe, my life is so difficult!”

Griffon’s slinkiness was shrugged off like an old jacket. “That’s still a thing? I mean,” she turned to Geoff, and Gavin couldn’t see what she did with her hands, but it was some kind of silent married people communication. He did see Geoff shake his head, making a slicing motion at his neck.

Hm. Something going on there. Before Gavin could ask, Griffon was pulling him to his feet and wrapping her arms around his neck. “As I was saying. A _strapping_ young man.”

It was remarkable, how he could still flush when she curled her words in such a way, even after all this time. He could feel his ear redden as he bowed his head to her. “I have been very good, I feel I should point out.”

“You have. Unlike _some_ ,” she said, clearly directed at Geoff. “So why don’t I show you how much I appreciate it?” Behind her, Geoff grinned and stood up, draining the last of his beer. “Geoff can fetch your collar. And then watch.”

“What? Aw.”

It was that fast. Gavin wondered if this was what it felt like to be pulled instead of pulling. Griffon could take command of things so easily, directing Geoff with a simple nod in the right direction. It was one moment to the next, how Gavin went from being slightly dusty and working on the floor to having his clothes stripped off him, the collar buckled on (and it was a rush to realize he’d _missed_ it, that fuzzy fabric texture setting him alight), and pushed onto the bed.

Speaking of things he’d missed, Griffon stripped. She was still the most beautiful woman in the world. Who inexplicably enjoyed ordering him around and shagging him senseless. Gavin couldn’t keep himself from giggling in excitement and from the sheer wonderful strangeness of it all.

“Upstairs brain has gone off-line, I see,” she remarked dryly.

“I was just thinking,” Gavin said softly. “My life is really weird but... I like it.”

He was rewarded with a smile like the sun peeking through the clouds, blinding in its brilliance. “Gavin. Sweetie.” She looked up, across the room where Geoff had sullenly taken a seat in a chair. “Change of plans.”

“Hot damn,” Geoff said emphatically, joining them quickly.

“You’re not fucking anyone. But you can hold Gavin down if you like.”

He sighed. “What if I say I’m really sorry for abusing our pet twink?”

“I’d say that’s good, but you’re still not getting your dick wet. Come on.”

Gavin laughed again, high-pitched and embarrassing to even his own ears, but the average conversation in the Ramsey household was just as weird as the rest of it and he enjoyed it just as much. He managed to calm down when Geoff pulled his arms up and pressed them against the bed, pinning him. “Uh.”

Griffon straddled him and took great care to explore Gavin’s exposed chest and shoulders. “It’s like you’re smuggling a carpet under your shirt.” She petted the hair there. “Soft though.”

He wanted to be good and pay attention to what she was going on about, really, but his cock was hard enough it hurt and Griffon was wet above him and he couldn’t be expected to carrying on a conversation like this. “Gr-Griffon, _please_.”

“Oh god, you beg so pretty,” she breathed and obligingly rolled a condom on him before planting her hands on his shoulders and starting to ride him.

Gavin fought the grip on his arms hard, powering up against Geoff’s hands with his whole body. He didn’t so much as budge the man; when he panted for breath and looked up, Griffon wasn’t even looking at him, entirely absorbed in how she was moving, shifting around to get Gavin’s dick where she apparently wanted it. Geoff, though, stared at Gavin, his eyes dark and lips parted slightly as he held Gavin in place.

It was fucking _wildfire_ scorching through him. Gavin felt stripped of himself; Griffon made perfect use of him and Geoff kept him from fucking it up. That wavelength of trust that he constantly felt with them and in his perfect, handcrafted collar, it reverberated through him, taking him to pieces until he fell apart.

He’s never been one to keep his head after coming, so he hardly noticed Griffon grinding off against him. He did catch Geoff cursing, and the man leaned down to kiss Gavin’s slack mouth as he finished himself off. Beyond that, the universe should’ve given up existing for all that Gavin was paying attention to it.

Before Gavin drifted off into a well-earned nap, he wondered what kind of frown Michael would be wearing if he could see Gavin now.

 

* * *

 

Gavin was lining up footage to record voice-over for when Kerry leaned into the office and said, “Okay, just a friendly heads-up, but whatever you do, _do not_ insult Michael’s hair,” before dashing away again.

Before Gavin could really parse what Kerry had even said, Michael walked in and told the room, “Sorry I’m late but I had to punch someone in the mouth,” casual as you please.

His hair was straight. It was straight like Gavin’s had been after that one time Griffon had taken her hair iron to it, but somehow nicer. The change of style made Michael’s hair seem lighter and let it frame his face differently. It was also very shiny.

“Holy shit, you look like Griffon when she goes brunette,” Geoff said loudly, even though he must’ve heard Kerry’s warning.

“Well, your wife is pretty hot, so thanks,” Michael replied without missing a beat, sitting at his desk.

“You’re welcome. It’s Thursday, so let us know when you’re going to do Rage Quit.” And that was apparently the end of that, as Geoff spun back around and got back to work.

As much as he wanted to follow their example, Gavin found his eyes straying to the left every few minutes. It was like he was continually startled by the person sitting next to him, who looked like an intrepid stranger who’d stolen into the office. The effect was unsettling, and as a result Gavin’s edits took entirely too long and his defeat at Jack’s hands in HORSE was even more drastic than usual.

In the afternoon, Michael announced he’d be staying in to do Rage Quit, using the lunch hour to give everyone a chance to escape the room before the screaming started. Geoff nodded to Gavin. “Rudy’s?”

“Um. No, thanks, gonna stay I think,” Gavin murmured to him as Michael set up his special pop filter for recording.

Geoff’s eyebrows almost reached his hairline. “Seriously?”

Gavin shrugged. “I’ll see you later?”

He watched Geoff leave, then spun around to find Michael staring at him like he’d grown a second head. “What?”

“What are you still doing here? I’m going to start in a sec.”

Gavin leaned back in the chair, trying to project an air of ease and comfort that he definitely didn’t feel. “I thought I’d watch.”

Michael got a look of horror on his face. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

He wasn’t quite sure himself. “Well, yanno.”

“No. Elaborate.”

Bloody hell, Michael was a suspicious bastard. “I mean, it’s interesting, innit? Usually you’re a bit more energetic than the average bloke, no doubt, but you manage to crank it up to eleven. I wanted to see.”

Michael’s eyes were narrow as he stared at Gavin. Either Gavin’s made up explanation didn’t fly or it was just completely unbelievable to Michael. That was a shame, Gavin thought; he could understand any random person not thinking too deeply about the videos Michael put out, but anyone in video production would surely be curious about Michael’s process and how he sustained his anger and managed to make it compelling.

“You’re full of shit,” Michael decided aloud, “but whatever, it’s your lunch hour.” He pulled on his headphones. “If the mic picks up any of your squeaks or noises, I will pummel you.”

Gavin grinned and pulled his legs up in the chair, settling in for the show.

And perhaps Gavin hadn’t really been interested in the Rage Quit process, as it were, but hell if he didn’t get wrapped up in it anyway. It was an oddly natural progression; Michael started just by muttering angrily to himself, psyching himself up with frustration. Twenty minutes in, the first major fail happened and the “ _fuck!_ ” snapped out of his mouth with all the suddenness and force of a whip crack. Then it was off to the races, and Gavin had to cover his mouth to stifle his laughter as Michael’s anger built and built, like a shaken soda bottle that inevitable burst under the pressure, erupting with expletives and vitriol all over the place.

Good lord, no wonder Rage Quit videos had their own pop filter.

When Michael turned off the microphone, he took a single deep breath, holding it for a moment before exhaling slowly out his nose, and with it let go of all of the fury he’d carried through the session. His shoulders slumped and his head sagged back against his chair, eyes closed.

Gavin wasn’t able to resist the urge to applaud quietly.

Michael opened one eye, watching. “What?”

“Nothin’.”

“Why are you fucking clapping?”

“I was impressed? That was intense.”

Michael stared at him for a moment before sighing and running a hand through his hair. “Whatever.”

“Why’d you do that?” Gavin asked before he could stop himself.

Somehow, without clarification, Michael knew exactly what Gavin meant. “Because I woke up early today and wanted to straighten my hair. Why?” There was a hardness to his voice, and Gavin wondered who had gotten punched in the face for insulting Michael’s hair.

“You did it yourself?”

“Yeah.”

“So do you...” Gavin unfolded his legs and leaned back enough so he had room to swing them idly. “You own a hair iron?”

Michael was glaring again. “Yeah.”

“How long will it stay like that?”

“I don’t know. Probably until I wash it.”

“It’s very shiny. Is that product or something?”

“No, it just does that. Seriously, are you going to open a salon? Why do you care?”

 _Because I like it the other way_ , Gavin thought vividly, thinking about Michael’s curls and how they suited his face and made his freckles more obvious, made his stern face somehow softer. 

Somehow, it was that realization that lead to the other one that had been waiting in the shadows. Gavin _liked_ Michael. He’d met the man, instantly rubbed him the wrong way, and yet spent a solid two and a half weeks trying to get into his good graces. He remembered every time he’d caught Michael smiling and could recall the exact shape of his grin. He’d just sat in a room silently for almost an hour watching his profile as he worked himself up into a tantrum and had snickered all the way through, even when it hadn’t been that funny.

It was a crush. It was a _painfully obvious_ crush, and on a _boy_. Oh, bollocks.

“I have to go,” Gavin said dully, standing so fast his head spun a little.

Michael frowned (another confused one, minor annoyance-- oh god, he’d been mentally cataloging his _frowns_ , what was wrong with him?). “What?”

“I, I need to go. I think I ate something off.” He started grabbing his things.

“You didn’t even eat lunch.”

“Right. Well.” He had no response there. “I-I’ll see you later.” Without wasting another second, he stumbled out the door, ignoring the faintly worried look on Michael’s face. Instead, he pulled out his cell phone and texted Geoff in rapid succession:

_have a situation_

_!!!_

_help?_

And the second Geoff’s car pulled back into the car park, Gavin bounded out and climbed in. “Can we go home?”

Geoff blinked. “What?”

“I might be having a bit a of stroll outside my own brain right now and I really think I need to go home, it’s an emergency, though not a life emergency, just a sort of crisis thing,” Gavin babbled quickly.

“Okay, whoa.” A hand settled on Gavin’s shoulder. “You sure?”

Gavin nodded, staring into the footwell. It looked nice down there, dark and hidden. He slid off his chair and tucked himself in it as well as he could.

“Wow. All right. Home.” Geoff turned the car back on. “We can do that.”

 

* * *

 

Because Gavin was now a teenager who had emotions about boy’s hair and such, Gavin breezed through the house and into his room at the far end of the hall and threw himself across the bed, onto his belly. The sun was pouring in through the curtains and Gavin glared at it, insulted that Austin _insisted_ on it’s gorgeous weather while he was having a crisis. He grabbed a pillow and pulled it over his face.

There was a faint knock. “Are you smothering yourself? Because I’d prefer if you didn’t do that.”

Gavin countered with his own question, much less calm and about three octaves higher. “Do you know, I think I figured out why I have gone mental these past few weeks?”

The bed dipped near his head. “Okay. Points for self-awareness. You... do you want to share, or...?”

He flung the pillow across the room, then growled when it didn’t hit the wall with satisfactory force. “Here’s the thing. Here is the thing.” Geoff was staring at him and Gavin felt his breath actually hitch in his chest. Fuck, was he going to freak out on Geoff? Was Geoff even going to sit through this? Oh god, maybe he had to do this alone and send Geoff away. Gavin had a full flash of just how much he depended on the Ramseys for his livelihood in America.

“Okay, whoa there,” Geoff said, one hand pressing against Gavin, just below his neck. “Don’t hyperventilate, buddy.”

“The thing is,” and he had to do this like ripping off a plaster, “I think I might be gay now and I don’t know what to do.”

Geoff’s face went blank and Gavin almost panicked at the sight. “Okay, _breathe you stupid shit_ , and run that by me again?”

Gavin groaned and buried his face in his hands. “I _like_ Michael. I have been acting like an idiot around him because I _really_ like him and in a more-than-touching-tips way.”

He couldn’t see Geoff’s face as he hid his own but he heard the quiet, “Jesus fucking Christ, really?” before, “Gavin, look at me. Gav.”

Gavin peered through his fingers.

“You think you’re gay?”

Gavin held up a hand, the finger close together. A bit.

“All right. And you’re.... upset about this realization?”

“Well, it’s sort of news to me!”

Geoff held up his hands placatingly. “Whoa, whoa. I’m with you, I’m on board and fully briefed. It’s fine.” He lay his hand back down on Gavin’s clavicle. “You ready for me to blow your mind here?”

Gavin nodded silently.

“Sweet. So you’re pretty fucking smart to figure this out here. You’ve got us, and we all care about you, and none of us give a shit if you prefer dicks or not. You’ve got me,” here he held up his arms and mimed some boxing, “who will beat the shit out of anyone who so much as looks at you wrong. You got Griffon, who gets that shit, and knows a bunch of gay dudes if you need someone to talk to. You’re in the land of steers and queers and, hey bonus, in _Austin_ , and we’ve got Houston and Dallas beat on open and accepting shit.”

He lay his palm on Gavin’s cheek, making sure eyes were on him. “Maybe it’s gonna be shitty for a while, but we’ll get you through it. We’ll help you figure shit out and everything will be fine. More than fine. Okay?”

Gavin had to admit, that was... a really good speech. Almost suspiciously good. As his freak-out dissipated, he had the presence of mind to ask, “Did you... was that rehearsed at all?”

Geoff grinned. “Well, maybe a bit. Good one, right?”

He sat up and shoved Geoff angrily. “Why in the _buggering fuck_ did you have a gay speech rehearsed for me? Did you-- Did you _know_?”

“Well, the fact that you didn’t figure it out months ago made me think that bomb would drop at some point. Best to be prepared.”

His voice was getting shrill, but he didn’t care. “ _Didn’t figure out what?_ ”

Geoff laughed, a little nervously. “Okay, Gavin. Buddy. I’m going to put this as delicately as I can.” He then cupped his hands around his mouth, amplifying himself as he yelled, “Who the fuck have you been banging for the past few months? Did you _not_ notice my dick? Was the room too dark? Do we need to get some better lighting in there for when you have _my penis in your mouth_?”

The first three times Gavin tried to respond, he sputtered out some gibberish, completely taken aback. “That was-- I mean, it was with Griffon!”

“And that somehow makes it _less_ of a blowjob?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t really think about it!”

“No shit, _really_?!”

Gavin was still in the process of coming up with some sort of defense when the front door open and shut. “Geoff? Gavin?” Griffon’s voice came from the other end of the house. “Are you all right? Burnie called, said there was an emergency.”

“In here!” Geoff called back. “Gav was just telling me about how he’s gay now.”

Griffon appeared in the doorway, looking confused. “What? Has he given up on girls? Are he and Michael going steady?”

Gavin flung out a hand, pointing. “You _knew_! You knew!”

She looked between them, plainly not following. “Geoff, help me out here.”

“Gavin just figured out about eight months late that he likes dudes.” Geoff leaned in for a hug, but Gavin wasn’t having it and pushed him away with a hand on his face. “Aw.”

“You _prepared a speech_. You’re a piece of shit.”

“Only because I just know you that well!” Geoff protested.

Griffon sighed and climbed on with them. “Geoff, shoo.”

“But--”

“Shoo.”

He groaned, but got up. “I’m heading back to work. If anyone asks, Gavin is sick.”

Gavin watched him go for a second. He was still peeved, and yet... “Geoffrey. Uh. Thanks.”

Geoff waved a hand over his shoulder. “Don’t think you’re not going to be hearing about this for the rest of your life, dipshit.” Which was his way of showing he cared; Gavin was a scholar of Ramsey-speak. Though god knew he _was_ going to be hearing about it forever, yes.

Gavin groaned and slumped back on the bed.

Griffon leaned over him. “So...”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

Gavin shook his head, suddenly feeling... tired. “No.”

“Because I hate to enable Geoff, but... It’s not like we’ve blindfolded you. Did you not _see_ the dick?”

With a sound of absolute despair, Gavin grabbed another pillow and rolled into it, hoping the world would take the hint and piss off for a while.

 

* * *

 

Queer, Griffon explained. The term was queer. Or bisexual.

As far as Gavin was concerned, the term didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that Gavin’s heart rate jumped when he got into work the next day and Michael actually asked quietly, “Hey. What happened? You better now?”

Gavin managed a weak smile. “I’m fine, no need to fret.”

“I wasn’t-- nevermind.” Michael jammed his headphones on over his ears even though Gavin rolled back enough to see his desk and how the computer wasn’t even playing anything yet.

Gavin bit his lip and booted up his Mac, ready to take the light, airy feeling in his chest and let it carry him through the rest of the morning. When the monitor flicked on, his wallpaper had changed to a simple image of black Arial font on a white background.

_Dear idiot, next time eat your fucking lunch and try not to die. Love, Michael._

The condescension was palpable, radiating from the screen along with the color and light. But Gavin smiled anyway, because that Michael had even thought to do it and had taken the time, even if it was just to go into Paint and type up the message, was just lovely.

That, more than anything, was what had him dodging Geoff’s lunch invite (“What, again? Fine, I’m going to crash Gus’ lunch. Try not to have an existential crisis while I’m gone.”) to instead bother Michael. “You know what, you should come with me for grub. Make sure I don’t die.”

Michael didn’t look as enthused, but it was fair to say the Gavin had never seen Michael look as enthused as himself. “You have a car?”

Gavin didn’t even have a license. “Erm. No.”

“Then where are we going?” He leaned back, crossing his arms, looking unimpressed again.

Gavin silently bemoaned the fact that his heart and dick had set their sights on this complete stick-in-the-mud. “Well, where were you planning on going for food?”

“I _was_ going to hitch a ride with Geoff, but since you botched that...”

“Well, we have a kitchen, don’t we?” Bold and probably a bit reckless, Gavin hooked his fingers into the pocket of Michael’s hoodie, pulling him along. “There is more than booze in there.”

“All right, all right, jesus,” Michael grumbled, stumbling to keep up. “Aren’t you a ray of fucking sunshine today?”

“I’m having a good day,” Gavin said with a smile, breaking away to start sorting through the pantry. There happened to be eggs that hadn’t gone off, a half loaf of enormous Texas toast, and a pan on the drying rack. “French toast?”

Michael seemed to be on board with the program finally, climbing onto a bar stool and crossing his arms sternly, like he was about to judge Gavin’s lunch-making performance. “At two in the afternoon?”

That wasn’t a no, so Gavin started collecting the things he’d need. “Thing is that back home, it’s basically me and Geoff in the kitchen. Griffon’d sooner spill paint thinner into spaghetti than manage an edible meal. So I make breakfast and Geoff does dinner.” Remembering something he saw on telly, Gavin picked up an egg, trying the one-handed-no-tap break thing so many chefs could do.

Michael leaned over to watch when Gavin squawked. “Did that egg just explode in your hand?”

“Ha, haha, yeah that was weird, wasn’t it?” Gavin cleared his throat, deciding to just break the eggs normally. “So do you like Austin?”

“Do I like Austin?”

He didn’t know why Michael constantly took that tone, like Gavin’s questions were somehow ridiculous. “Well, you came from New Jersey, right? Do you like it here?”

“I don’t know. It’s different. Everyone’s fucking nice here and,” he waved a hand at Gavin, “apparently make French toast in the middle of the day. Why?”

“Why, why, why,” Gavin parroted back. “ _Why_ can’t I just want to know more about you?”

“Because it’s weird.”

“It’s not weird!”

“Oh my gawd. Okay, I’ll bite. Do _you_ like it here?”

Gavin blinked. “Isn’t that obvious?”

“I have no idea! Answer the question!”

“Yeah, I love it here. It’s warm, there’s nice people, the food is ace, and the work’s a lot less stressful.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “You look like you could use less stress, yeah.”

Gavin frowned to himself, putting (gross, _gross_ , but soon to be delicious) slices of egg-soaked bread in the pan. “I once worked on a music video shoot that ran so long and required so many hours, I started hallucinating and lost about three days of time.”

“Holy shit.” He wasn’t laughing anymore.

“Yeah. Thing is that slow motion work, it takes time. It’s... complicated, I can explain some time, but basically we can only shoot in short bursts, so any extended sequence takes a bloody long time to get to work, nevermind the issues with precise lighting and choreography.” He shook extra cinnamon onto the bread, then flipped it. “And I’m just the slow motion cameraman. I often have to explain to the rest of the crew what I need done to work and if I’m _very_ lucky, they listen the first time.”

“Sorry.”

Gavin’s head jerked up. “What?”

Michael averted his eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t know it was such an ordeal. That sucks.”

Was that some _consideration_ from Michael Jones? Wonders never ceased. “Yeah, well... S’why I like it here. The work’s more fulfilling and less likely to put me out of my mind, and I don’t need the help there anyway.” The sizzling died down and Gavin turned off the stove, grabbing plates. “Anyway.”

“Do you eat anything but sweets?” Michael asked, but his voice was not as harsh as Gavin was used to. With his back to his co-worker, Gavin indulged in a small, secretive smile before carrying over the food.

“You don’t like sweet things, Michael?”

Michael’s eyes narrowed, and he grabbed the syrup with a little more force than strictly necessary. “I didn’t say that,” he replied, and upended the bottle over his food.

 

* * *

 

Next Monday, Geoff handed out video and editing assignments to everyone. Immediately after, Gavin went to his desk and told him very frankly, “You are an arsehole.”

“Uh huh. Have fun.”

“You are really not a nice person.”

“Boo fucking hoo, like you aren’t thrilled in your pants about this.”

“I want you to know how much I appreciate your understanding and empathy, Geoffrey.”

Geoff glanced around the room before whispering, “Hey, I defused your months-late gay panic _and_ now I’m helping you out with your crush. How is that for understanding and empathy?”

“It’s shit,” Gavin told him, then retreated back to his desk to look over his shot list. In Geoff’s scrawl was written items like _HORSE you vs Michael_ , and _RT Life??? come up with something with Michael, he’s new_ and _guides with Geoff and Michael_. There was a clear recurring theme.

It was that week that the stupid bets started.

When Wednesday rolled around and Gavin still didn’t have a RT Life, he grabbed a camera and threw himself into his chair so hard, he rolled over to Michael.

“So here at Rooster Teeth, we’re a very traditional people,” he proclaimed grandly. Michael startled, looking ready to shout at Gavin for his interruption until he saw the red light on the camera pointed at him. “It just so happens that all of our traditions involve alcohol. Michael Jones, as the newest initiate to the company, I have a challenge for you.”

Michael tipped back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “I’m listening.”

“I am going to take a pitcher and fill it with a shot of _every type of alcohol_ in the building. If you drink it, I will give you fifty dollars.”

Michael snorted. “No. Two hundred.”

“One hundred.”

“One fifty.”

“One twenty because that’s what I have on me.”

“Done.” He got up and, with more theatricality than Gavin would have ever expected from him, pulled off his jacket, flexing his muscles for a second. “Let’s do this,” he said before leading Gavin out of the office. Halfway out, he spun on his heel and pointed at Gavin’s face, beyond the camera. “New rule, though. Only alcohol that’s actually, like... meant for drinking. If you put rubbing alcohol in that thing, I’m dumping it on your head.”

How had he known? Gavin nodded. “Only bevs.”

“Cool. Go for it.”

Gavin turned off the camera as he went around the office and began to collect bottles. There were stashes all over the building where people kept their alcohol of choice, and it was a good fifteen minutes before they were ready. “This would go faster if you helped.”

“Oh, would it?” Michael affected a shocked face, then boosted himself up to sit on the counter across from the island, which had been filled with bottles. “Give me the camera.”

Passing it over, Michael tracked Gavin as he got out the pitcher and a shot glass. “As you can see, our collection is quite varied and prolific. Let’s see what we can make out of this.” And he started easy, measuring out shots of beer. “Okay, we-- we might need to change this to half shots. There’s a _lot_ here.”

“Whatever, barkeep, get to work.”

For the most part, Gavin just worked his way steadily through the bottles, aware that this part would likely be sped up. When he found something interesting (“I’m not sure I should open this, it’s fifty years old.” “It’s been opened before, it’s fine.”) or particularly heinous (“Oh, gross, is this made with ginger?”) he brought it over to show Michael.

Gavin retrieved the camera when he finished. “Ugh, it looks like swamp water! It’s got-- oh my god.”

When Gavin zoomed in, Michael ran a finger down the outside of the pitcher. “It’s like radioactive Neapolitan, this shit’s got layers.”

“So do you want to pour it into a glass or mix it up?”

“Jesus fuck, you can see the whiskey-bourbon-vodka-et cetera layer, look!”

Gavin giggled nervously, suddenly unsure this was a good idea. Geoff would not be happy if he accidentally killed Michael. “You know, there’s no forfeit. You can just--”

“Shut the fuck up. There’s not actually a lot in this... Where’s the blender?”

A few minutes later, Michael had two tall glasses filled with the axe murderer cousin of the pina colada, each with a cheerful paper umbrella in them. Thus armed, Michael sat himself on the counter again, wisely perched next to the sink. “Man, this sure is a glamorous job,” Michael said.

The camera shook from the force of Gavin’s laughter. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling like I’ve made a huge mistake in coming to Austin.”

“Well, luckily you have these two huge drinks that may help you forget all about it.”

Michael picked up one. “Oh, I doubt that.” He lifted the glass to his lips before recoiling. “Fuck.”

“Bad?”

“Naw, it’s great.” That amount of sarcasm crammed into three words was impressive. “Okay. I do this, you also have to edit one of my videos this week.”

“Fine. If you _don’t_ finish, you have to edit two of mine.”

Michael nodded. Now they were getting into the real currency of Achievement Hunter: trading editing jobs. “Bottom’s up,” Michael says before slamming back a mouthful of the stuff.

Gavin was expecting something. Gagging at the least. Instant rejection at the most. Michael simply pulled a face, shook out his shoulders, and swallowed. “Gavin?”

“Ta, yeah?”

“You’re fucked,” Michael informed him before drinking more.

So the first Jones-Free bet ended with Michael leaning over the sink, looking green, but otherwise no worse for wear, explaining to the camera just how disgusting the concoction was, and with Gavin sullenly emptying his wallet to slap some bills into Michael’s hand.

Once the camera was off, Michael weaved back to his desk with Gavin hovering nervously at his elbow. “That was fun,” he said, sitting gingerly. “Let’s do that again sometime.”

 

* * *

 

One time: “I bet you can’t drink this bottle of barbeque sauce.”

Michael let him see a miniscule smirk. “You’re on.”

 

Another: “You should do a tutorial on hair irons.”

Michael rolled his eyes and reached out to put a hand over the lens. “Get that camera out of my face before I break it.”

 

One rainy afternoon: “Do you know that the most soothing thing in the world is watching rain in reverse slow motion? I got a lot of accidental footage of it when I was learning to work one of the newer cameras at the production company, and I somehow fed the video into my Mac backwards, so I managed to splice together this five minute segment of it. The microphone picked up the sound too and it was _amazing_. I have the audio file on my iPod for when I can’t sleep.”

“Are you on drugs right now?” Michael asked, looking honestly worried.

 

Gavin got used to hiding his smile behind the viewfinder of the camera. It was pathetic, really, how he doggedly sought out Michael whenever he could, trying to pry any emotion out of him that wasn’t mild surlyness. He had no illusions about what a loser it made him.

Mostly because Geoff didn’t let him forget it.

“Have you asked him to prom yet?”

“Shut up.”

“You totally should. I bet he puts out.”

“ _Geoff!_ ”

A lot of the things he recorded found their way into a PENDING folder on his desktop and then left there. The entire company contributed to RT Life videos, and a majority of the antics never were used. Eventually, that PENDING folder got tucked away, off the desktop, hidden away somewhat shamefully like a porn folder. It was awful, and Gavin was aware of that, thanks much.

But one of the videos that did go up, one that Gavin didn’t expect to be picked, was out of the blue, the product of boredom and Gavin waiting on Geoff to finish a meeting so they could go home. Michael was plugging away at the Rage Quit video of the week. Given the amount of energy in the RQ series, Gavin found the flatness of Michael’s face as he put it together fascinating.

He grabbed a camera and settled into his chair, watching. Quietly, he started to narrate. “Here is Michael... hard at work... editing the smash success YouTube series, Rage Quit. Look at him go.”

Michael didn’t look at him, which showed his wisdom; when Gavin set his sights on annoying someone, the best defense was ignoring him. Michael had learned this well.

It was a good defense, but by no means fool-proof, especially in the face of Gavin’s level of fool.

There was a toy helicopter on Michael’s desk, the controller sitting right at his elbow. It was so easy to tip it off the desk and onto his knee, revving the little motor. It whirred tauntingly near Michael, who grimaced but carefully kept his eyes forward and on his work.

It took some complex claw-hand action to steer the thing and keep it in the air as it did a circuit around the room, but the result was perfect. Michael murmured, “You hit me in the head--”

The timing was so flawless, Gavin would never be able to replicate it. The toy dropped from the air and bonked Michael on the head with a wonderful noise before falling to the side. Delighted, Gavin made a noise, the bastard child of his squeak and a laugh, watching as Michael slowly took off his headset.

Certain he was about to be hit, Gavin lifted an arm, ducking behind it, appealing to Michael and noting how difficult it’d been to pull off. Michael was entirely unimpressed, but Gavin kept laughing, couldn’t stop, and a smile was working its way onto Michael’s face as well.

There was a still moment, with Gavin squeaking with glee while Michael stared at him, and the tiny smile on his face widened, showed white teeth, curved freckled skin, and _holy balls_ , Michael had dimples. Gavin had never understood why dimples were a big deal to anyone until he saw the ones framing Michael’s grin. They were _amazing_ , he’d just never known until now.

“You’re an idiot,” Michael muttered, still grinning, turning away as Gavin turned the camera off.

 _Oh, no doubt_ , Gavin thought vividly as the door opened and Geoff poked his head in.

“Gav? Ready to roll?”

Gavin tucked the camera under his arm and nudged Michael’s side. “See you.”

The smile he got then was smaller, like the fallout of the brilliance of before, but Gavin still wished he caught it on camera. “Later, asshole.”

That night, Griffon stood over Gavin as he and Geoff played a round of Gears, her chin tucked over his head. “What’re you so smiley about, sweetie?”

Gavin waited until he’s in cover, then tipped his head back to kiss her swiftly before explaining. “Michael has dimples when he smiles.”

Griffon aww’ed appreciatively. “I see you approve.” She tweaked his ear fondly. “Keep on keeping on, Gav.”

“Plan to,” Gavin assured her.

“Hey, are you going to sit behind that fucking wall all day or what?” Geoff complained, elbowing Gavin sharply.

Playing favorites with a heavy hand, Griffon ran her nails through Gavin’s hair. “Don’t listen to him, you know he only cares about what he can eat or fuck.”

“Lucky for you, right?” Geoff put up a hand for a high five. “Oooooooh!” When his wife and his-- (roommate? employee? imported no-longer-a-twink?) Gavin just stared at him, he dropped his hand. “What? Come on, that was good. See, it was a joke about oral sex.”

Gavin sighed. “Tasteless.”

“No, _tasty_. Ooooooooh--! Oh, come on, that was so fucking fast on the draw, someone give me a fucking high five.”

 

* * *

 

Gavin’s good mood went headfirst into a brick wall the next day. It was Friday, and Michael bailed out of work halfway through the day.

Gavin didn’t even know why or get to say goodbye. Michael was gone by the time he got back from lunch. And he’d brought cookies (most definitely not biscuits) back from the shop, the soft cookies with the huge disks of thick frosting that only tasted of sugar. They were obnoxiously sweet, and Gavin intended them for Michael, because sweets were something of an inside joke with them now.

But there was no sign of Michael. His station was powered down. There was a note for Geoff on his desk, listing the file path of where he’d put his day’s work on the server.

“That’s it?” Gavin tried not to sound as disappointed as he felt.

“He got a phone call, something urgent,” Jack said. “Why, did you need him for something? I thought you finished your recording in the morning.”

“I did. It’s fine.” Gavin retreated to the kitchen and set the cookies on the island.

As expected, they were gone next time he checked. The animation team was like a cloud of locusts, devouring all sustenance left in their path.

On the way home, Gavin was quiet, even as his head was noisy and irritating. It was a ringing, buzzing in his ears that made his teeth grind. It was irrational and ridiculous, but it felt like his control was slipping away from him.

Other people with that feeling might panic, unsure what to do.

Gavin was not other people and instead waited for Geoff to sit down in the living room before climbing onto him and kisses his cheek, nuzzling in against the beard and nosing at his ear. Geoff exhaled slowly and curled his hand around Gavin’s neck, thumb spinning the collar around. “What do you want, boy?” he asked, low and amused, a tone that made Gavin shiver.

“Anything,” Gavin replied.

“Griffon’s going to be late tonight. That okay?” Gavin nodded against Geoff’s jaw, where he was getting friendly with his mouth and teeth. “Then I might have an idea for you. But,” Geoff put a hand over Gavin’s mouth and pushed him away. “Later. Go play a game or something for an hour. And I can feel you pouting, stop it.”

Gavin sighed, loud and overblown, but climbed off Geoff and went to his room. Fine. Some Halo would be perfectly fine. He hadn’t had the time or inclination to casually play for some time. Well, he still didn’t have the inclination. But he was trying to be good.

He wound up in the bottom three of five matches in a row when Geoff walked in, put his shoulder to Gavin’s stomach, and lifted him easily in a fireman’s carry. It was always a surprise, how strong Geoff was, and Gavin could do little more than hold on as he was carried away. He grabbed Geoff’s belt, trying to push against it to hold himself up. “Geoffrey!”

“Quiet. No talking unless it’s to tap out, got it?”

Gavin grinned and said nothing.

“Good.” Geoff dropped Gavin unceremoniously on the bed and started stripping him without fanfare. Gavin helped as much as he could, but it was difficult with no leverage and Geoff’s hands lifting him and moving him. “How do you feel about a long scene?”

What Gavin felt was his heart start to beat faster. He watched Geoff, biting his lip.

“Here’s my plan. I’m going to keep you here.” Geoff picked up a leather cuff and fastened it carefully around Gavin’s ankle. It had a chain that lead to the bottom of the bed and underneath to connect somewhere. “Sometimes I’ll fuck you senseless, sometimes we’ll just watch TV. Sound good? Questions?”

Gavin made a show of laying back and casually putting his hands behind his head, cocking an eyebrow.

“Excellent.” Geoff beamed and climbed onto the bed, brusquely rolling Gavin onto his belly and laying on top of him, heavy and hot. He set to rubbing serious beard burn into Gavin’s bare shoulder, where it’d be just barely hidden by Gavin’s shirt. Gavin groaned and tried to hit Geoff with his elbow only to be pressed down into the bed harder.

“What’s that? You feeling rebellious, Gavvy?” His hips nudged against Gavin’s ass suggestively. “Because I can work with that.”

A shocked laugh rushed out of Gavin and he ducked his head, fisting his hands in the sheets.

Geoff leaned back, off him, and ran a hand down his spine. “Much better. Why don’t you stay _just_ like this?”

Easier said than done. Geoff spread him openly slowly, taking far more time and care than Gavin really needed, and fucking _stopping_ every time Gavin so much as tensed a muscle. The fingers and the hand braced on hip were the only points of contact, and staying up and in position on his own strength was increasingly difficult.

Putting his head against the sheets, Gavin tried to muffle the wound-up, shuddering cries he had to let out. “Shush,” Geoff murmured and finally did Gavin the favor of replacing his fingers with his dick, and Gavin was so over-prepared, he slid all the way in on the first thrust.

There was no keeping silent after that. Gavin panted and whimpered as Geoff fucked him, clutching at the bed as the force of each thrust pushed him further up the bed. Eventually, the cuff around his ankle pulled taut and Gavin hoarsely yelled, slamming his palm against the headboard to brace and push back because it had to happen then, he was unraveling so fucking fast from the rough treatment and the friction of being rocked into the mattress.

He choked on his own sounds as he came, entire body going tight as a piano wire before going lax like one that had been suddenly cut. Gavin shut his eyes, breathing hard as Geoff continued to use him, feeling pangs of phantom sensation through him, making his toes curl.

Geoff kept muttering disjointed praises at him as he came, “So good, such a good boy, that’s it, fuck,” shoving in hard one last time as he did. The cuff pulled sharply, keeping Gavin in place and Gavin shivered as an aftershock ran through him.

He wound up again with heavy weight laying across his back. He couldn’t hold Geoff like that for a long period, but the pressure was nice, actually. Less nice was Geoff rubbing his damn beard over Gavin’s _other_ shoulder, either in the name of symmetry or in post-coital cuddling. Whichever it was, Gavin sighed, exasperated.

“How was that?” Geoff asked, still beard burning Gavin’s skin idly.

“Are you wanting a bloody scorecard? Achievement unlocked, fucked well, ten gee-ess..”

There was a sharp slap against Gavin’s thigh that startled a groan out of him. “Okay, tying you to the bed was the best idea ever. You clearly have some tension to work out.”

Gavin laughed. “Did I injure your pride?”

“You’re laughing now,” Geoff said, rolling off Gavin and onto his back. “Wait until I get it up again, I’m going to rock you like a hurricane. Let’s see you mouth off then.” He reached out and ruffled Gavin’s hair for a moment before stopping. “Shit. I can’t make you go get a towel.”

Gavin shook his leg so the chain jangled. “Nope.”

“Goddammit.”

 

* * *

 

Saturday rolled around and Gavin was still feeling pretty good. He’d been unclipped for breakfast and to take a shower, but by the afternoon he was a mess all over again, laying across the bed like some resplendent harem boy, head on Geoff’s thigh. ESPN was on the TV and otherwise the room was quiet. Outside, Gavin could vaguely hear a chainsaw going; Griffon had given a pass on the scene when she came home.

She had walked in when Gavin had had his mouth around Geoff’s dick and taken one look at the cuff around his ankle and had said, “Don’t let me stop you, but I have way too much work to get done before the show next weekend.” And then had taken out her iPhone, snapped a picture, and gone to crash in Gavin’s room.

Which was fine. Gavin subbed for Griffon and Geoff individually and together. Each set up ran a little differently; Griffon tended to like her service equal parts sexual and not. Geoff mostly enjoyed taking Gavin to pieces as quickly and as often as he could, like he was competing with himself for a high score. Together, they balanced each other out.

But for this particular weekend, Geoff was fine. More than fine. He kept Gavin’s mind off things.

Mostly.

“Do you think it’s weird, the Michael thing?” Gavin asked. “I mean, it’s not like I don’t get laid enough.”

“Don’t interrupt the game.”

“It’s about to go to commercial.” Gavin rolled over onto his back so he could stare at Geoff. “Do you think it’s weird?”

Geoff sighed. “I think that Michael is pretty damn adorable and I can see why you’d want to hit that, but I don’t pretend to know what goes through your mind beyond that.”

Gavin snorted. “Right.” He stayed quiet for a moment, just listening to the whirring in his own head. “Do you think Michael’s a screamer? I mean, it’d be a bit obvious, but.”

“I try _not_ to think about my co-workers sexual habits.”

Gavin sat up and turned to stare at Geoff, face scrunching up from the sheer bald-faced lie of that statement.

In return, Geoff hooked a finger in his collar and dragged him back down. “Shut up.”

“Tell me the truth, Geoff, did you sometimes daydream about bending me over the sound board in the recording studio?”

“Yeah, it was fucking sexy how you were, like, fifteen and recording game footage for hours on end.”

He punched Geoff’s side. “I was of age.”

“I didn’t want to poach on Burnie’s fucking twink.” Geoff caught Gavin’s wrist the next time he got ready for a punch. “Chill, boy.”

“Feeling ornery.”

“No fucking shit. Wait until the game’s over.”

 

* * *

 

Griffon took over for a while on Sunday. Gavin was worn down and Geoff wasn’t in much better shape (“I am not twenty anymore. Don’t act so shocked. I moisturize.”), and Griffon was exhausted from all her work. So, after a shower that consumed every drop of hot water in the house, Griffon laid down on her stomach and handed Gavin a bottle of oil.

He got to work, learning quickly the amount of pressure Griffon wanted, where she wanted his attentions focused, and how to work out the knots in her muscles. It was the way he worked with anything; when it was a new process, he screwed it up in about every way possible, but once he got a hang on it, it was easy as breathing.

It was nice, feeling the way all the hard work left its mark on Griffon and then taking that weight from her shoulders through touch and the push of the heel of his hand into her back.

“So, Gavin,” she said when the massage wound down. Gavin was just dragging his hands over her skin in circles, sometimes getting distracted by tracing her tattoos.

“Mmhm.”

“Do you want to talk about the Michael thing?”

His hands stuttered to a stop for a half second before moving again. “Dunno what’s to be said.”

“Well, the thing is that once someone gets a hook in you, you are fucking easy as pie.” She pushed up on her elbows and flipped over. “Keep going.”

Gavin blinked, attention momentarily broken by boobs. “Keep-- right, sorry.” He oiled up his hands again and started in on Griffon’s abdomen.

Griffon folded her arms behind her head. “But before you get to second base, you are the most painfully shy person in the universe. So I’m asking-- how’s it going with Michael?”

Gavin hunched his shoulders. “I... don’t much know? I mean, what do you want me to say?”

“That you are going to make a fucking move, sweetie.”

“What move am I supposed to make?” His voice was growing hard at the prodding even as his hands remained gentle. “For all I know, he’s straight as a bloody arrow.”

Griffon smirked softly. “As I recall, being straight was not a barrier between your mouth and Geoff’s penis.”

“Am I going to be living with that for the rest of my life?”

“Absolutely.” She sat up, wrapping her arms around Gavin’s waist and tucking her head into his neck, sawdust and tea tree oil under his nose. “Gavin. Sweetie. As fun as it has been watching you pine, and it has been... ask him out. Have a few drinks. Admit to him you like him. See what happens.”

Gavin laid his cheek in her hair. “You make it sound easy.”

“It’s not.” She squeezed him. “But do it anyway.”

 

* * *

 

On Monday, Gavin was practically skipping into the office. It was sunny, the drive in was short enough that Geoff stopped at Starbucks, and Gavin held in his hands two obnoxious frappe things. His body was humming happily, the weekend having done quite a lot of good towards breaking down all of his built-up tension. He was ready for a great day-- nay, a great _week_.

He set one cup of syrupy chocolatey icy wonder on the corner of Michael’s desk before settling into his own chair. “Hi Michael.”

Michael was wearing one of his hats, the knit one with a brim around the front. It was pulled low over his eyes and Gavin leaned in to see his face. It was not a smiley face that he saw there. In fact, Michael looked worn out and as grumpy as Gavin had ever seen him.

“What’s a matter, little boy? Did you have a bad weekend?”

Michael cut him a hard sideways look. “Are you serious right now?”

Gavin’s smile faded. “What?”

“Are you, like... Do you have specific times when you’ll be a decent human being, like it’s some fucking nine to five job, and the moment you’re outside that time period you fuck off and forget everyone else?”

Jaw dropped, Gavin gaped at Michael for a moment. He wasn’t loud, but he was angry in a plain, clear way, and had his ire aimed directly at Gavin. It’d be one thing if Gavin knew why, but he was entirely in the dark. “I... what?”

“Nevermind. Thanks for the drink.” Michael got up and left the room, leaving the frappe.

Gavin kept waiting for Michael to come back. Eventually, the drink melted and had to be thrown out before it dripped condensation all over Michael’s desk. Even after that, it was just three people in the office. Every time the door opened, Gavin’s head shot up in hopes that it’d be Michael coming back.

Nothing.

After a few hours, Geoff stopped by Gavin’s desk, took one look at his face, and grimaced. “He’s working at Kerry’s station.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Look, we’re going to do AHWU. You look like someone murdered your dog, so go get lunch early or something. Get your face out of here.”

He nodded and powered down. He needed some space anyway. Something to make him bounce back from his confused disappointed. He worked diligently through the morning, but in the back of his mind was going over everything he’d done or said to Michael last week, looking for what had caused their relationship to backslide.

Michael was grabbing a soda from the fridge when Gavin wandered to the kitchen. He frowned at Gavin before ducking his head and walking back towards the animators’ space.

Gavin heard a voice very similar to Griffon’s in his head then, shouting at him to use his damn spine. Before he could think better of it, he jogged along to catch up with Michael and turned him around. “Michael!”

Michael instantly smacked Gavin’s hands away. “What?”

“What? I should ask you as much!” Gavin crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, trying to look half as intimidating as Michael did. “Why have you been such an arsehole today? I mean, there’s bad days and then there’s whatever the sod you’re going through.”

“Why do you suddenly care?”

“Since when do I not?!”

“Since you--” Michael looked away. “Fuck, nevermind.”

When he made to leave, Gavin reached out, planting his hand on the wall, blocking his way. “ _Mi_ cheal. Do me a solid and tell me what I did.”

“It’s... Christ, it’s stupid, it doesn’t matter, okay?” And now Michael looked sheepish, refusing to meet Gavin’s eyes.

“I’ve been told I’m excellent with stupid things,” Gavin reassured him.

That earned him a shadow of a smile, which was a delicious victory, as far as Gavin was concerned. “Look, last weekend fucking sucked. I had some stuff to take care of and then you didn’t respond to any of the however-the-fucking-many messages I sent--”

“What’d you message me on?”

“You...” Michael still wasn’t looking at him. “You were playing Halo all weekend. I tried to get you for a match or two and then you didn’t respond to any of the damn texts-- I can take a hint, all right.”

Gavin instantly dug his phone out of his pocket. “Okay, hold on there. Geoff half-smashed my phone about two weeks after I got the damn thing and it’s never given me text alerts since then.” He pulled up in inbox and found seven new messages, all from Saturday and Sunday, all from Michael. He showed Michael the screen and all the unopened texts. “See?”

Michael frowned. “So you didn’t know? But, well, what about you being on XBL all weekend and not answering anything there?”

“I left the box on.”

He got a skeptical look for that. “You were in Halo.”

“Yeah, I know. In fact, I’m probably _still_ in matchmaking. No, honestly, come here.” He grabbed Michael’s sleeve and dragged him to the office, poking his head in. Jack was setting up the AHWU camera, but filming hadn’t started. “C’mere, right quick.”

Gavin turned on Geoff’s 360 and checked his friends list, scrolling down to his own gamertag. “See? Look, I’m still playing Halo according to this.” He pointed. “I’ve been idling like that for three days at least.”

Michael pulled off his hat and ran a hand through his curls, pulling at his hair. “You fucking leave your console on all the time?” Gavin nodded. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Well, yanno.” He tried a smile. “So, I wasn’t ignoring you, I swear. Are we...?”

Michael nodded slowly. “Uh... Yeah. Sorry I... I had a _really_ shitty weekend and I’m still new here, so I’m not exactly drowning in friends.”

“Hey!” Jack hit Gavin lightly with his AHWU book. “Have this conversation outside, we have an update to film.”

Obligingly, they wandered back out of the room. Gavin moved again with a spring in his step, mood restored, but Michael kept his head low, hands tucked into his hoodie. Gavin was seized with the urge to comfort him, but had no idea how to do that or if he could without Michael punching him.

“In the future, if you need me, just call. I see those alerts.”

“Sure,” Michael muttered. Then, “Seriously, man, turn off your Xbox, those things use up a lot of fucking power.”

Gavin grinned. “Sorry. Old habits.”

“How have you not red ringed?”

“Luck, I imagine.” Carefully, he nudged his foot against Michael’s. “You still seem down. Do you want to... do something later?” This was not the way he intended to do this, but he hadn’t exactly put together a plan in the first place.

Michael finally met his eyes, and Gavin was stupidly relieved to see how much irritation had left Michael’s face. He still looked tired, no doubt, but not angry. “You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

He was about to suggest a place, one of the quieter bars he knew about perhaps, when Michael beat him to the punch. He turned and pointed out the glass doors and across the road. “See that apartment complex over there? I moved in on Sunday.”

A few things clicked into place. “Is that why you left on Friday?”

“Yeah, I had to handle the lease and shit. Then had to move my crap out of Jack’s place. Now it’s just me and a bunch of boxes.” He scuffed his foot against the floor, and with his height and how messy his hair was, it made Michael seem very young all of a sudden. “You wanna pick up some beer and help me make the apartment liveable?”

It wasn’t a night at the bar, but it would be fine. Gavin smiled. “I’d love to.”

 

* * *

 

Gavin stole a six-pack from the podcast fridge at the end of the day before following Michael across the street to the apartments. It’s a short walk, three minutes tops, and was spent in silence. He led Gavin up one flight of stairs before unlocking his door and leaving the door open for Gavin to follow.

The space was open and fairly large, but completely empty of anything except a few folding chairs and cardboard boxes. Some were unopened furniture from IKEA and others had clearly come all the way from New Jersey, labeled in wide tip marker.

“Ta dah,” Michael said dully. “This is it.”

“It’s top, what’re you sulking for?”

Michael shooked his head. “Seriously, dude--”

“No, seriously, Michael.” Gavin took off his sandals and walked across the living room, taking long strides to help him get a feel for the size of the room. “You are literally right next to work, you’re not so far off the ground that taking up groceries is going to be a bother, there is so much space, and is that an actual balcony?”

There was a ghost of a smile on Michael’s face. “Sure, Gavin.”

“You just need to build some of this bloody furniture.” He went to the shiny new boxes and sorted through them. “Here! Let’s make you a.... bar stool! Start easy.”

“Easy, huh. Have you ever assembled shit before?”

“Nah, but it’s just some allen wrenches and pegs, right?”

Michael’s smile at last appeared, soft and amused. “Uh huh. I’m going to order some food. Then we’ll see.”

Gavin camped out on the floor and shook all the bits and pieces of the bar stool out, spreading them over the carpet before standing up the box to look at it’s picture. It looked dead easy, he could even line up a lot of the parts to the photo and thus started putting things together.

“Are you reading the directions?” Michael asked.

“When was the last time you picked up a game and looked at the manual?”

“Yeah, because that’s totally the same thing. If I play a game wrong, it doesn’t break under me and impale a chunk of wood into my flesh.”

As it turned out, Michael’s worry was for naught as Gavin did assemble the bar stool easily, and even without left over parts, a clear sign of victory. He set it at the breakfast nook with a proud smile and sat in it as hard as he could. “See?”

“It’s a bar stool. It was, like, seven parts.” Michael’s grin was still peeking out at Gavin, barely visible with how Michael was keeping his head tilted away. 

“Fine! Let’s make a.... What do you need right away?”

“A fucking bed frame would be nice. But food’s gonna be here soon, so hang on.”

It was Thai from the place near Rooster Teeth, a place Gavin was very familiar with. The smell of the curry and rice noodles was one he was long used to, and he bounced to the door while Michael was still paying the delivery girl, quickly liberating the bags of food and the styrofoam cups of cold tea. Thai iced tea was a strange concoction of red tea and condensed milk that was so sweet it made Gavin suck at his teeth after every sip. It was _amazing_ , especially with spicy food.

There was the matter of Michael’s lack of plates. In fact, it was lucky take-away came with forks, because neither of them could figure out which vaguely labeled box might have utensils.

“I can get you some plates and stuff,” Gavin said between bites of bame. “Griffon has a load of that stuff in her work space. Anything we stop using in the house goes there in case she needs it to repurpose for art stuff.”

Michael gave him a look, saying nothing.

“What?”

“Nuthin’.”

For god’s sake... Gavin would be the first to admit that he wasn’t the greatest at talking, but Michael took evasion to an artform. Gavin set down his fork and leaned forward on his elbows, staring hard at Michael’s face. Initially, he was ignored, but Michael did meet his eyes with a glare.

“Knock it off,” he muttered.

“Tell me what that look was about.”

“You are fucking annoying sometimes, you know that?”

“Yeah. So, what was that look about?”

Michael rolled his eyes so hard, Gavin thought he’d overbalance and fall over. “Christ... look, I was just curious about your... thing with Geoff and his wife.” And Gavin’s entire body suddenly flushed with nervous heat, but there was no way Michael had any idea, he clearly didn’t mean the sort of _thing_ Gavin did. “I mean, you’ve lived with them for years now, right?”

“Uh...” Gavin scratched his nose, looking down at his food. “Yeah. They’re... like weird family, I guess.”

“Really? You’re like...” Michael made a few indistinct hand gestures.

“They’ve put me up and kept me well and I’ve... tried? To repay that?” He pulled a knee up on the stool to wrap his arm around. “But it’s like... with the people you really care about, you don’t think about it, do you? It’s like that.”

“Sounds... nice.”

“Yeah.” Gavin bit his lip, trying not to smile like an idiot too much. “You have that with anyone?”

“Not since I left home.” Michael shook his head almost imperceptibly, gaze low like his entire head was heavy, pulling him down. It hurt to look at, really, but Gavin made himself watch.

“You will, I’m sure,” Gavin replied quietly. Michael didn’t respond in any way, and Gavin didn’t know what to say beyond that, what could half and if he even could. “So... bed frame?”

The melancholia that had taken hold of Michael vanished as he looked over at the box. “Yeah, why the fuck not. Grab another allen wrench, Gavvers.”

Between the two of them, they built half of the furniture, drank all the beers, and also drank the housewarming alcohol. Gavin found the carpet to be very soft, and laid down on it as Michael started dismantling the light switches.

“What’s the problem then?” Gavin asked, slurring.

“What?”

“Why’s your face gone all dodgy?”

Michael turned. “You just got, like... five times more British or something, there.”

Gavin licked his lips and said again, slowly, enunciating. “What is your damn problem with the thing?”

“The wiring’s shitty. Like, switch one and four work normal, but two and three are reversed. So if I want the fan on and the light on, the switches are opposite. It’s going to drive me to a murderous rage if I don’t fix it.”

“What’re you, some sort of...” He waved a hand in the air. “Uh.”

“Electrician, yeah.”

“Whoa, really?”

“That’s what I just said, idiot.” He went to the circuit board, flipped a breaker, and then started to really pull apart the switches. His face was set in an angry frown, like twenty minutes into a Rage Quit recording session.

Gavin sat up, or tried, then just lay down again. The carpet was excellent. “Don’t start yellin’. Unless I can record it.”

“Shut up, Gavin.”

“‘M serious! Your yelling is an-- an artform! It must be shared.”

“You are so drunk. How the fuck do you live with Geoff and be such a lightweight?”

Gavin flung out a hand and pointed at Michael. “That’s not drunk me talking! That’s me-me talking. You...” He let his arm fall back down. “I need a nap. Light’s out. Making me sleepy.”

The timing was too good to be accidental; Michael fixed the switches to his liking and flipped the breaker again. The fan and light came on at once and Gavin yelped, rolling onto his side. “ _Mi_ chael!”

The laugh that bubbled out of Michael was a little mean, but warm, and when Gavin squinted through the light at him, his dimples were out again.

Thank _fuck_ that alcohol always made Gavin’s face go red, because those dimples were killing him. He wanted to do something stupid, like lean in close and rub his nose against them.

“Hey,” Michael said quietly, kicking Gavin’s leg. “Come on. I don’t have cable yet, but I have internet. We can stream a movie or something.”

No movie would be nearly as captivating as Michael Jones and the angry flash of his eyes or the full force of his smile, but it would have to do.

 

* * *

 

It was half-past midnight when Gavin finally got back home. He was still buzzed, but was mostly steady on his feet, singing under his breath the same song he had been since the last movie he and Michael watched. The cab driver had glared at him, but screw that guy, a singing drunk was one of the least obtrusive of possible drunks, Gavin was certain.

He fought with the door for a moment before getting inside and locking it behind him, still singing, “ _Our commooon goal was waaaaiting for the world to end._ ” He banged his head to the imaginary beat before wandering further in.

His hosts were in the living room, curled up around each other on the sofa, and Gavin stopped in his tracks and gasped loudly. “You two! Aw, you’re a bloody picture of domesticity. Someone should...” He mimed a viewfinder with his hands, framing them. “Should take a picture and submit it too Good Marrieds Monthly.”

Geoff tipped his head back over the couch to look at Gavin. “People who look like us don’t end up on magazines like that. And hey, you’re drunk as fuck.”

Gavin bounded in and lay himself across one of the chairs, knees hooked over the armrests. “Not really. I was pissed before, no doubt. Now I’m just...” He shrugged.

Griffon flipped over so she was laying across her husband and could see Gavin. “You can’t be that good. You don’t have your freshly fucked face on. What happened, did you crash and burn?”

“Nah.” He lay his head back across the other armrest. “It was lovely. We IKEAed a bunch of things and drank and Michael rewired things and we watched Scott Pilgrim.”

“So you _didn’t_ talk to him?”

“No. I just... it was nice. Just hanging about.”

Griffon chuckled while Geoff said, “You are a fifteen year old girl. I mean, in the best possible way, but still.”

“I,” Gavin said extravagantly, “am fine with that.” He hauled himself back to his feet, only stumbling a little bit. “Bedtime, yeah.”

“Drink a big glass of water first. You are not staying home tomorrow because of a hangover.”

“Yes, boss. Goodnight, lovely people.”

* * *

 

Michael and Gavin shared a look upon seeing each other the next day. It was deep and full of mutual understanding and agony and a hatred of the daystar that loomed so heavily over Texas. It was a beautiful, sunny day, and the blinds in the AH office were not nearly strong enough to block out the harsh natural light.

“So,” Michael said in an uncharacteristically quiet voice, “that was fucking stupid of us, huh?”

“Yeah. So, do you wanna do it again?”

Michael stared at him. “Are you fucking kidding? No, why would I want to inflict this on myself again when I have to be at work at nine?”

Gavin smiled and sat down, leaning back hard in his chair until he managed a good recline. “All right, little boy, all right. Do you need more aspirin? If there’s one thing that’s always on hand here, it’s aspirin.”

“Oh, shut up,” Michael grouched, doing that thing again when he put his headphones on before his computer was playing anything to listen to. It was a symbolic thing, his way of telling Gavin to sod off for real, and Gavin nodded to himself, turning to his own desk and letting him alone for a while.

It didn’t stop him from trying again later. He kept track of Michael’s mood through the day, waiting for the bounce back. He could have drawn a graph, and filed it in his brain next to the catalog of Michael’s smiles and frowns that he’d created. But by three, Gavin had a plan and Michael looked a good deal less likely to bite him for daring to speak too loudly.

“So, are you coming out with everyone?” Gavin asked coolly, knocking his chair into Michael’s.

Michael held up a finger, kept editing for a moment, and after a few minutes of continued work (and Gavin’s continued stare), he finished up and turned. “What?”

“Are you coming out with everyone?”

“To where? Why?”

“The place down the street? For bevs and fun?”

“I didn’t hear about that.”

“Oh,” Gavin blinked, and tried to put on a convincing surprised face. “Well, they were talking about it. Couple of us heading out. You interested?”

His hand creeped up, tucking under his knit cap to run through his hair. “I don’t know if I’m up for it. I mean...”

“It’s just bevs.”

Michael traced one of the chiclet keys of his keyboard idly. “All right. It’s not like I couldn’t bail and walk back home, right?”

“Top. I’ll see you there, then? After work?”

“Yeah, Gavin, you’ll see me. Now let me finish shit up.”

It was a terrible plan. Gavin knew this, and not just because Geoff had walked by and whispered in Gavin’s ear, “This is a fucking terrible plan,” as he went. As soon as he executed said plan, he _knew_ he was going to have to talk his way out of some serious questions. It was also pretty dickish of him, really; Michael wasn’t as well-situated in the company as Gavin was and didn’t know the ropes. He was sort of taking advantage of that, Gavin knew, but...

Gavin thought of dimples and admitted to himself that he really was a bit of a shit sometimes and this was just going to be one of those times. He might simply admit that to Michael at the bar. Honesty and all that, it was good.

So later that night, when Gavin strolled up to the bar, he lingered at the door, gathering his thoughts before walking in. He was ready with both bullshit and truthfulness, depending on what the situation called for.

The bar was dimly lit, and there was music playing, but it wasn’t obnoxiously full or noisy, likely by virtue of it being a weekday. There wasn’t a crush of people to hide behind or any way to avoid the fact that Michael had settled in at the bar where he could see the door and was watching Gavin with a calm, blank expression.

Gavin winced and made his way over. “Hi, Michael.”

Michael kicked the stool next to him and nodded to it. Gavin climbed on and folded his hands, tucking them between his knees, leaning over the wood bartop. “Michael--”

“You’re full of shit,” Michael cut him off. “And you’re really fucking lucky that I’m choosing to find that hilariously pathetic instead of the alternatives.”

“Uhm.”

“You’re picking up my tab tonight.” There was no room to argue in his tone, and Gavin nodded. That seemed fair. “So I’m going to have a fucking giant margarita.”

Gavin smiled. “All right, Michael.” He wasn’t sure what Michael had figured out, or how, or how it painted Gavin, but once the drinks came, things got better. There were appetizers to argue over, especially when Michael decided his “tab” included five different appetizers. It took some shouting and entirely empty threats to get him to settle on just wings and queso dip instead, but Gavin’s wallet was glad for it. With food came a lighter mood, and the sort of antics that the two of them were prone to, including ordering each other the most annoyingly sweet, colorful drinks they could find.

There were also, predictably, sports on the televisions. Michael tried to explain the American sports when they were on, and Gavin in turn tried to explain the international sports updates. Neither of them understood hockey, but agreed it looked the most interesting of anything that showed on ESPN.

Without irony, Gavin ordered himself another chocolate martini because it’d ended up being pretty good. As he licked at the cocoa powder on the rim, he noticed that Michael was staring across the bar and turned to follow his gaze.

Michael instantly spun his chair back around. “Fuck, could you _be_ less subtle?”

“What? What, what? What’re you looking at?”

“Halfway down the long end of the bar, look, but not _that_ goddamn obviously.”

Gavin did, and spotted what had caught Michael’s attention. There were some birds at the bar, each drinking bottled beer and being unsubtle about how they were glancing back over at them. Oh. Huh.

Now that he knew what Michael was looking at, he turned away again and sipped his martini.

Michael was watching him, narrow eyed. “So is that it?”

“Hrm?” Gavin stared back and narrowed his eyes in turn, imitating Michael’s cross look before snickering. “What’s your face for?”

Michael’s expression was edging between annoyance, confusion, and suspicion. Which summed up their interactions fairly well, Gavin thought. “Aren’t you going to...?” He nodded over Gavin’s shoulder.

Gavin leaned his chin in his hand. His drink was excellent and Michael’s face was equally excellent to look at, even without dimples.

“Gavin. I don’t know what your usual game is, but when you’re trying to get some and your wingman sees opportunities... generally you’re supposed to at least _investigate_.”

Gavin snorted. “Oh, little boy.”

“Oh, little boy, what?”

Gavin swayed forward, into his glass, taking another sip of it before licking the vodka and chocolate cream stuff off his lips. “Who’s to say I’m not pulling _right now_ , huh?”

The reaction was not immediate, either due to Michael approaching drunkenness at the same speed Gavin was or because it just didn’t sink in right away. Slowly, Michael leaned back in his chair, slinging an arm around the back, eyes suddenly a very heavy weight on Gavin. He didn’t look... anything, really. Not shocked, not angry, not disgusted. Only thoughtful.

It took a solid minute for Gavin to rewind what he had said and to blanch. Very suddenly, he felt like throwing up. “I-- I mean, it’s a weekday and all, I don’t really pull for anyone on weekdays, don’t have the time.”

Michael just kept _looking_ at him, all unreadable and terrifying.

“It’s...” He tried to look at his watch, but he wasn’t wearing one, so he fumbled out his phone to check the clock on it. “It’s almost ten, I should... I mean, Geoff and Griffon, they worry, yanno?”

“Okay,” Michael said, voice so even it could be used as a level. “You gonna finish your drink?”

It was still half full. “I’m, um. Not feeling it, actually. You can have it.” Gavin got to his feet and nearly dropped to the floor when the ground wasn’t as close as he was expecting. Michael’s hand caught his arm, helping him stay up, and that only made his knees wobble more. _Fuck_ , what the fuck had he been thinking? He kept his head low and pulled out a few large bills from his wallet. “I’m going to...”

“Okay,” Michael said again. “See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” He chanced one more look back as he left, but Michael was still fucking inscrutable, and Gavin cut his losses, heading outside even as he hit the one on his speed dial.

The phone rang twice. “Yeah?”

“Griffon,” Gavin sighed, misery plain in his voice.

Her heard her make a soft tutting noise over the line. “Be there in ten, sweetie.”

 

* * *

 

Griffon’s car didn’t have the deep footwell that Geoff’s did, so Gavin woefully could hide down there and hope to never be seen by the world again. More’s the pity.

Instead, he made a few monosyllabic replies to her questions and lay his head against the door. The window was open and the wind whipped through his hair and over his face. It was a nice, cleansing feeling that almost made the knot of worry in his gut loosen. Gavin was, at his core, not a person who worried much. He actually worked hard in short, concentrated bursts because it freed up the rest of his time to be fairly relaxed. 

This kind of tension was fucking _terrible_. Was this how Gus felt all the time? Nauseated, like his heart was leaping up his throat?

Gavin moaned and nudged his head against the seatbelt.

“Are you going to throw up?” Griffon asked.

Maybe. “No.”

“You look green.”

“ _Griffon_.”

Her hand found his shoulder and squeezed. “Okay. Hang in there, sweetie.”

As soon as Gavin got in, he went to his room. _Safe space_ rung through his head like a bell, and its unspoken partner: _if an open door’s an invitation, a closed door means go away_.

This was how it was going to work, he thought harshly. He was going to go in tomorrow and fucking stare Michael down if he even started to say anything about what happened. He’d get over this bullshit crush and go back to being content with all the sex he was already getting or with pulling for girls for a night of fun. It was easy and he understood it.

He pulled a pillow over his head, hoping it’d smother the thoughts of Michael’s smile, of the way his hair puffed out from under his hat, of how his face had said sodding _nothing_ when Gavin’s mouth had gotten away from him.

If he were lucky, he’d wake up without emotions. That’d fix everything. Life was infinitely easier when you just didn’t give a shit.

 

* * *

 

The plan was to go in, to get his assignments for the day, and to get them done as early as possible. Maybe he’d follow that up by grabbing a ride home from whoever left the office first. Then he could lay in the back yard and start in early on the weekend’s drinking.

That plan evaporated when Gavin and Geoff got out of the car in the carpark and Michael was pacing in front of the office, like a tiny, rage-fueled guardian of Rooster Teeth Productions.

Gavin stopped dead in his tracks, unsure what to do with this development. He was considering options that sounded reasonable in his head but were likely to be seen as strange outside it (diving under the car? vaulting the fence and running? using Geoff as a shield?) when Michael took the first steps towards them. “Gavin. Can we talk?”

Geoff crossed in front of Gavin. “I think we should talk first.”

Oh. Hm. Gavin wasn’t expecting that. He looked between the two, unsure if he wanted to even see where this went.

Michael shucked his hands in his pockets, but his head was high as he met Geoff’s gaze. “We don’t need to.”

“Michael, I like you. You’re a good kid--”

“Boss, I am _not_ about to give you reason to fire me. I swear.”

Geoff rocked back on his heels, crossing his arms and looking more serious than Gavin had seen him. “You wouldn’t get fired because of Gavin.”

“Yeah, but I’d be fired if I suddenly turned out to be a homophobic shithead, right?” Michael smirked and shook his head. “It’s not gonna be like that, Geoff.”

It was like Geoff’s internal alerts reset. He went lax and lazy-looking again, all the intimidation he’d worn just shrugged off. “Okay. But I’m still the project supervisor for you little shits. Don’t make me have to do the sticky parts of that job, got it?”

Michael gave him a crisp, sharp salute and watched him go, leaving the two of them alone in the quiet lot.

Gavin shuffled his feet and wrapped an arm around his stomach, turning a little away. Then realized that made him look pathetic and tried to straighten out.

His fidgeting earned a smirk from Michael, who stepped up into Gavin’s space with slow steps. “So.”

“Yeah? What?” Gavin’s gaze cut from Michael’s face to the ground and back.

“If you can stop looking like I’m about to beat you with a stick, that’d be awesome, you know.” His smirk faded into a grimace. “I mean, shit, Gav.... you don’t think I’m that guy, do you?” And he sounded pained about it.

“No! I don’t know! Look, if it’s all the same to you, I’d much prefer we just...” Gavin could keep his hands from waving a little manically through the air. “Hit reset? Go back to before _that_ happened and pretend it didn’t happen?”

“Uh, haha, no?” Michael’s mouth went wonky as he apparently tried to squash down his smile with mixed success. “No, because as an awkward nerd, I’ve made a habit of _not_ ignoring it when people admit they are hot for my body, because that’s stupid.”

Gavin felt himself go completely red in the course of three seconds. “Oh, shut up.”

“I’m serious.”

“You-- You’re the _opposite_ of serious.”

Michael held up his hands. “Look, sorry, okay? It’s hard to take seriously.” Gavin’s face pulled tight, darkening like a sudden lightning storm on the horizon, and Michael instantly looked apologetic. “Not because you like guys! No, because you like...” He gestured to himself. _Me_. “I mean, I shouldn’t have been that surprised, but I guess I thought all dudes from Europe flirted with everyone, it was like a thing.”

Gavin didn’t know what to say to that. “It’s... no, it’s not a thing. And most of England would not appreciate being called European, tell the truth.”

“But they are.”

“Still.”

“Okay.” Michael leaned over, peering up at Gavin to catch his gaze when Gavin kept looking away. “So are we cool?”

“I’m not--” Gavin stopped, wetting his mouth. His lips seemed very dry and it was bothering him all of a sudden. “I fancy girls too. I usually fancy girls, actually. I’m not an old hand at the blokes thing.”

“Hey, that’s fine. Neither am I.” He nodded to the door. “Come on then, Gavvers. Let’s get back to work.”

Gavin followed in a daze, trying to unpack in his mind everything he’d just heard and figure out what it actually meant.

What it meant slowly unfurled over the next week.

The same Friday, Michael challenged Gavin to a stupid bet and used the fifty dollars he won in said bet to buy them both lunch.

 

On Sunday, Gavin got a phone call from Michael, “So about those plates, right?” and when Michael showed up, they went through Griffon’s work space, which was a bit like stepping into a strange alternate universe where old tables became dragons and broken mirrors turned into fancy boots. Michael went home with a box of mix-matched plates and set of silverware that probably would’ve been worth a lot of money if it was melted down.

 

On Monday, the AHWU was being recorded and Gavin stole a sip of the water bottle on Michael’s desk, trying to be subtle. He missed subtle by a mile apparently, and Michael’s hand whipped sideways to swat him. Gavin tumbled out of his chair, barely managing to dodge. “Oh, is that how you want to play it, asshole? C’mere.” And suddenly Michael was chasing Gavin around the very cramped space and Gavin was whimpering as he fought to stay behind Michael, eventually just grabbing onto the back of Michael’s jacket and following it around so he couldn’t be grabbed. “ _Mi_ cheal, please!”

Michael tripped him and sat on his chest before dumping the remaining water on his head.

Jack, having stood to the side and tilted the camera down to catch all of this, raised his eyebrows at Michael. “Satisfied now?”

“Yeah!” Michael beamed and ruffled Gavin’s hair.

 

On Tuesday, in the middle of a recording sessions, mic’ed up and starting up a Lets Play, Jack noted aloud, “I think the teams are in order of joining because I’ve got Michael.” And Gavin aww’ed into the mic. 

Geoff smiled and looked across at Jack. “What do you think, Team Beard vs Team Waiting For Puberty? Let Michael have Gav.”

“Oh, hello, little Michael!” Gavin greeted as Michael’s username switched sides. “They gave me my Michael.”

“No, they gave _you_ to _me_ ,” Michael shot back. “I wear the pants in this relationship, who are you kidding?”

Gavin bit his lip, snickering. His eyes kept tracking sideways, off his screen to Michael, who was fucking dimpling at him, the tosser.

 

On Wednesday, Geoff was wrapping up a recording session, so Gavin settled onto the AH sofa to wait for him. Michael sat next to him, pulling out his DS to play something. They didn’t talk or wrestle or anything. There was just the quiet warmth of Michael’s leg pressed against Gavin’s and how that alone was making Gavin flush bright red.

Later that night, he explained this to Griffon, hoping for sympathy. What he got was her hunching forward, shoulders shaking with laughter.

“Thank you, I appreciate the support,” Gavin said, completely minged off.

“Gavin, goddamn, are you fucking waiting for him to make a neon sign that says _ask me out_?”

Gavin pursed his lips and stared into the sink of soap and dishes. He’d been cleaning one pot for so long, it looked like new.

Griffon swung her hip into his. “Do it, sweetie. And _don’t_ do it drunk. None of that thing you do when you can only handle your fear of rejection when you’re blackout drunk.”

He said nothing, just washed dishes and tried to think of how.

 

On Thursday, Michael was out of the office.

Gavin’s mood took such a downward swing that they didn’t even pull out of the carpark before Geoff leaned over and wrapped a hand around Gavin’s neck, his thumb pressing up, making Gavin swallow a groan, eyes fluttering shut.

“Fucking Christ, you are screwed tight today.” His hand squeezed just enough to emphasize the breadth of his grip and Gavin sunk down deeper into his seat from just feel of it. “Tell me the truth: if I told you to come right now, you would, wouldn’t you?”

Gavin took a deep breath. “Not quite _that_ far gone, Geoffrey.”

“Uh huh.” He leaned back, letting go and turning over the engine. “Let’s go home and sort you out.”

It was hard to resist the urge to dance in his seat, but he managed.

Geoff laughed softly. “If you scream Michael’s name in bed, I’m gagging you.”

He considered this. “I could come up with a hand signal. Or there’s this thing,” his voice picked up speed as the idea started to really appeal, “where you put your finger in my hand and if I squeeze, I’m okay and if not you stop.”

“Oh my god, Gavin, if my wife spends the weekend on custom-made bondage equipment for you, I am going to be upset.”

“How upset? Like, would you put me over your knee and--”

“I’m going to put you over a bench and paddle you.”

Instinctively, Gavin yelped and recoiled at the very thought. “ _Urgh._ ”

Geoff looked across the cab at him, expression genuinely interested. “No on that, huh?”

“Yeah, no.” He pulled a face. “I don’t think I like actual pain much.”

“Fair enough.” Teasing dispensed and boundaries laid, they both lapsed into silence as the drive wore on. Bloody rush hour traffic kept them on the road an obnoxiously long time. Eventually, Geoff broached a new question: “Have you told Michael about it?”

“About what?”

“The subbing.”

Gavin stopped, immediately saved the message he’d been typing, and put his phone away. “Well...” He started slowly. “I can’t, can I?”

“You should.”

“Really?”

“You wanna get into a...” Geoff reached out a hand, like he was physically grasping for the word. “Relationship with this kid? You _should_ probably mention that you sometimes play live-in sub.”

“What? What, you want me to out you and Griffon as well?!”

“Uh, out? There is no outing, Gavin. Maybe we don’t go around telling people about our kinky sex life but it’s not a fucking state secret.” He kept looking between the road and Gavin, and it was a hard, serious look, almost like the one he’d worn in his unexpected stand-off with Michael. “Michael’s a good kid. He’s not going to run and tattletale. So if you’re worried for us, don’t.”

“All right...” The atmosphere was much less playful as they finally made it home. Gavin had liked Geoff’s hand around his neck and what it had done, quieting every anxious worry that was plaguing him. Now, everything had gotten complicated again. He needed to work up the courage to do something about Michael and on top of that needed to tell him even more about his own... proclivities. Gavin didn’t share Geoff’s confidence; Michael was fine with Gavin being into guys. That didn’t mean he’d be fine with Gavin occasionally playing submissive.

“Hey.” Geoff put his hand on Gavin’s neck again, tracing one tendon lightly. “Stop worrying. Come inside.”

 

* * *

 

Friday rolled around to find Gavin in an excellent mood. His body was humming happily at him and he had decided he was going to ask Michael out. He’d needed another push towards the idea, but when Geoff passed out into his post-coital coma, Griffon had talked Gavin up until he finally felt ready. Griffon was, deep down, Gavin’s favorite person, basically.

So he was going to do it. Ask him. Because, really, the worse thing that could happen was Michael saying no.

“Hi, Michael!”

Michael looked over at Gavin with a mild expression. “Hey, Gavin.” And then, after Gavin just stared at him. “That it?”

“Aherm.” Words, _words_ , why did they abandon Gavin in his moments of need? Fickle little shits.

“Uh huh.” Michael chuckled, returning to his work.

He tried again later, with the same results. Something about Michael’s eyes were mucking up his ability to ask him. Gavin briefly contemplated the idea of hailing him on chat and doing it that way, but that was low, even for Gavin. That was drink-thrown-in-face low, he was pretty sure.

Maybe a note. Handwritten things were supposed to have more validity. But then he’d have to wait for Michael to leave the room, then write a note and just hope no one else saw it. It’d have to be written in such a way it was obviously serious or else Michael might take it as one of Gavin’s jokes.

Fuck, his stomach fell at the thought. Michael already found the entire idea of Gavin having a thing for him funny. If Gavin put himself out there and Michael thought he was kidding, Gavin might actually have to crawl under his desk and die.

Gavin was staring at Final Cut as it pinwheeled, contemplating all of this when Michael leaned over and poked him in the side of the head. “Hey, lunch time.”

He sighed and turned off the monitor, hoping he wouldn’t come back to Final Cut having completely melted down or to an embarrassing new wallpaper or his browser’s bookmarks all changed to old YTMND sites. He followed Michael out of the office only to be caught by the elbow and pulled sideways into the empty conference door. Michael bumped the door shut with his hip and pushed Gavin into the closest chair.

Gavin blinked up at him. “Oh god, what’d I do this time?”

“Wow, guilty conscience much?”

He shrugged because, well, yeah.

Michael boosted himself up to sit on the table next to Gavin. “So, question for you. This weekend, you got any plans?”

 _Well, I plan on hiding under my bed so Griffon can’t yell at me for being a coward_ , Gavin thought with a wince. “Nothing big, nah. Why?”

“Cool.” Michael’s feet swung gently for a moment. “So uh. What do you think about the Drafthouse for a movie and then maybe steak?”

Gavin’s brow furrowed. “What do I think about...”

Michael stared at him and then shut his eyes for a second, pained. “Holy shit,” he breathed. “Gavin. I’m asking you out. Pay attention.”

Gavin’s mouth worked with no actual words coming out, which was probably a good thing given how fucking articulate he’d been all day. “You’re... what? What, really?”

“Dinner and a movie, asshole, it’s not hard.”

“For you, maybe!” Gavin’s voice cracked and he resorted to just nodding. “I-- yes, a date--?,” and the word had a questioning upward lilt to it until Michael smiled faintly. “Sounds excellent.”

“All right.” He hopped off the table, completely casual except for the upturned corner of his mouth. It was a good look on him, and just seeing it made Gavin start to grin. Oh, if only all his trouble could be solved by waiting them out. Though to be fair, that Michael asked him out was a huge part of what made the whole thing so _amazing_. “Saturday, then? I need time to jack Miles’ car,” which sounded like a joke, but Michael said it so gravely that it was impossible to be sure, “so let’s say six-thirty?”

“Sure. Yes.” Gavin’s face hurt from the force of his smile. “Whenever you’d like.”

“Oh my god, Gavin,” Michael said softly, exasperated but still appearing amused instead of frustrated with Gavin. “Come on. Rudy’s for lunch?”

Gavin nodded and trailed behind him, resisting the urge to skip or punch the air or something.

 

* * *

 

The problem with being excited about an imminent event is that Gavin didn’t sleep well when there _wasn’t_ something special to look forward to, but when there was something coming along, he got so much worse.

As it was, he was up late, sitting in Halo matchmaking until he was falling asleep on the sofa, and when he woke up, it was before anyone else in the house, it was before the _birds_ woke up and started chirping away. Sadistic buggers.

His body didn’t seem to realize that being awake so early just meant he had more time to actively wait for Michael to show up. It was irritating to put it mildly.

By the time Geoff rolled out of bed, Gavin had fallen asleep again on the couch, a throw pillow pulled over his face to block out the worst of the sun that poured in. He soaked up the extra rest like a sponge, needing it fiercely. On the surface, his daily life had not changed much in the last few weeks, but deep down he was boiling over with emotions and affections he’d never asked for. It was exhausting.

He was budged up eventually for a very late brunch. The Ramseys apparently didn’t want to make their own food, so just held off on eating as long as they could, then woke Gavin up. Obediently (and likely too drowsy to safely use hot kitchen equipment), he made bacon sandwiches, then sat in the living room where he could stare at the clock.

As it was, he had way too much time to prepare and yet when six-thirty rolled around, Gavin was in his room, sorting through his closet and wishing laundry had been done. Not that there was a ton of variety to his clothes. He was thinking about the theatre (would it be cold, perhaps he needed a long-sleeve shirt?) when Griffon walked into his room and shut the door behind her.

“He’s wearing a tie,” she said in a hushed voice.

Gavin froze. “What? Who?”

“ _Michael._ He’s in the living room waiting for you and he is in a tie.” She walked over to the closet, shoving Gavin to the bed. “Out of the way.”

“Why-- what’s he in a tie for?”

“Well, Gavin, I didn’t ask.” She flipped through the hangers, frowning at selection. “You need to reorder this.”

“ _Griffon!_ ”

“Calm down, I’m gonna make it all better.” She pulled out a pair of black jeans and tossed them to Gavin before grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him out of the room. In the hallway, Gavin craned his neck, trying to see down to the living room, to catch a glimpse of Michael, but Griffon had him pulled into the master bedroom in two seconds.

She went to her wardrobe and started pulling out shirts, looking at them severely.

“I am _not_ wearing a girl’s shirt,” Gavin said sternly.

“Fuck off. I wear men’s shirts all the time. You’re a lot more likely to fit into one of mine than Geoff’s.”

That was sadly true. Gavin was not blessed with broad shoulders. He quieted and waited until Griffon made a selection and tossed it at him. It was a dark blue buttondown, and as soon as Gavin was finished putting it on, Griffon did up the bottom three buttons, leaving the top two open and fussing with the collar. “You’re adamantly against eyeliner, right?”

Gavin stared at her.

“Worth a shot.” She ran her hands through his hair roughly. “Okay, you’re good. Go rescue Michael because Geoff gives him the shotgun speech.”

“But Geoff doesn’t have a shotgun.”

“Will Michael know that though?”

Fair point. Gavin took a deep breath, bouncing on his heels with not a little bit of nervous excitement before going.

Geoff was leaning on the wall, arms crossed. “I’m just saying. I will make your life painful if you fuck with him.”

Michael looked oddly formal, with his arms folded behind his back. He _was_ in a fucking tie, a skinny blue one. He had rolled up his sleeves, giving the shirt a bit more of a casual look, tucked into grey trousers. He had his hair straight again, but shorter. Fuck, had he gotten a haircut? It was hard to tell.

“You made that pretty obvious last time, Geoff,” Michael said coolly.

“Yeah, but that’s company policy bullshit. This is like... hillbilly dad with gorgeous red-headed daughter. I _will_ end you.”

Gavin already couldn’t hear more of this, and walked in and punched Geoff in the arm. “Don’t _ever_ say shit like that again, what is _wrong_ with you?”

Geoff, without missing a beat, slung his arm around Gavin’s neck and pulled him in. “This little twink is my pride and joy. I have a big scary work shed in the back yard. You’ll never be seen again.”

Like an angel of perfect timing, Griffon helped Gavin escape the almost-chokehold. “You are not killing people in _my_ fucking workspace, Geoff. Now let them go or they’ll miss their movie.”

Michael smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Ramsey.”

She eyeballed him. “You think you’re so smooth, don’t you?”

“Hey!” Michael pointed to himself. “This isn’t a clip-on, all right?”

She snorted before shoving Geoff down the hall. “Come on, husband.”

As he was pushed away, Geoff called back, “Gavin, if he tries to get to second base, let him know you’re not that kind of boy.”

Gavin covered his face in his hands. “Bollocks, they’re fucking embarrassing sometimes. Sorry.” He peeked through his fingers at Michael, relaxing at the faint smirk he was wearing.

“It’s fine. I have family too, they’re just as bad. So...” He looked Gavin over, cleared his throat quietly. “Ready to go?”

“God, yes.” He grabbed his wallet, keys, and stepped into his shoes before rushing Michael out of the house. 

There was a car on the curb that they piled into. It was familiar, and Gavin was certain he’d seen it parked at work, but it clearly wasn’t Michael’s. When Michael got in, it took him a second to get the key in and get his hand on the shift, just simple lack of muscle memory giving him away. “Is this... Did you steal Miles’ car?”

“Not exactly.” Michael pulled them away from the house and pointed them out of suburbia.

Gavin clipped on his safety belt but turned sideways in his seat so he could watch Michael. After all, it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen this drive before many times; Michael was more interesting and new. “What’s that mean?”

“Kerry owed me a favor and got it for me.”

“Sounds illicit.”

Michael’s smirk widen, flashing teeth. “I cannot confirm or deny the existence of nude Kerry pics.”

“That’s less a favor and more blackmail though,” Gavin pointed out, grinning back.

“No, it’s a favor. Who else was he going to trust to take those pics, seriously?” Something about the banter seemed to relax Michael further; he leaned back in the seat more, sprawled just a bit more, one hand low on the steering wheel.

He looked nice. Gavin was even starting to like the straight, shiny hair thing, as fond of the curls as he was. He had a _tie_ on. That was... it made Gavin duck his head, starting to snicker uncontrollably.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“I, ah ha... This whole thing is a little,” he trailed off, unsure of the word he wanted. Not weird or strange or silly, because those sounded bad. “I mean, unexpected.”

Michael glanced across the cab at him. “What, no one ever picked up for a date before?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Nah, that’s the bloke’s job, right?”

His face pulling into a sudden frown, Michael used the stop light to really look at Gavin. “Wait. Did...” His brows knit together. “Did you not... date guys?”

This conversation was going sideways and Gavin didn’t really know why or how. “Well, no.”

Michael’s fingers drummed on the wheel thoughtfully. “I’m the first guy you’ve gone out with?”

He’d thought that was obvious, but evidently not. “It’s sort of a new development, innit?”

Michael stared at him, jaw dropped. He was still staring when the light changed, and the truck behind them helpfully honked to remind Michael to put his foot on the gas. The car skipped forward, Michael hitting the accelerator too suddenly, before evening out. “Oh my god.”

“What?” Gavin didn’t understand what the problem was.

His voice jumping two octaves easily, Michael asked, “Am I the first dude you’ve-- you’ve been attracted to?!”

“No? I mean, I dunno, I didn’t really pay attention.”

Michael thumped his head back against the headrest. “Jesus fuck.”

“What? _What?_ ”

“I-- I don’t know, that’s a lot of pressure?” He rubbed his neck and kept glancing over at Gavin. “I sort of assumed...?”

Gavin shook his head. Frankly, it was possible that Geoff counted, but the thing with Geoff wasn’t about the same emotions the thing with Michael was, but balls if Gavin knew how to explain that. The Ramseys rocking his world was barely _about_ sex, more about... just something else. Maybe family, but not in an incestuous, creepy way. With Michael, it was that feeling of really liking someone and laughing at all their dumb jokes and wanting to perhaps trip them into bed. Gavin had sometimes experienced that with girls, but Michael was the first of the lads.

He didn’t notice he’d gone quiet until Michael went on quietly, “It’s okay. I was just surprised.” A smile, warm and reassuring, grew on his face. “And hey, we’re on even footing then, right?”

Michael was a fucking _marvel_ , Gavin realized. He’d learned Gavin fancied him and instead of breaking Gavin’s face or just being awkward about the whole thing, he’d turned around and done this. 

“What? What are you grinning stupid at?”

“You’re brilliant,” Gavin told him brightly.

Michael turned such a shade of red, good lord. “Well, hey, we’re here!” he choked out as they arrived at the theatre.

 

* * *

 

Gavin had absolutely nothing bad to say about the Drafthouse. It was an amazing theatre and had spoiled him for conventional movie-goings. The rooms were set up with tables with very comfortable chairs, and the place served drinks and food right to the table. No sodding babies were allowed into the movies outside designated baby days. It was also very easy to get rid of noisy, intrusive people who ruined the movie. The place had no qualms throwing someone out after a warning.

They also served alcohol. Which was a big draw.

Gavin loved the place. Rooster Teeth as a whole had a deep, abiding affection for the Drafthouse.

But no amount of locally-brewed beer or comfy chairs could make a bad movie good.

It was a flashy action thing with so little actual style of substance that Gavin lost track of the plot about five times in the first half hour. It made him feel awful, because Michael had said the trailers looked good and his friend Ray had enjoyed it when he saw it. Gavin didn’t know this Ray guy but his taste was now eternally suspect.

Halfway through the movie, Michael slumped sideways, his shoulder bumping into Gavin’s. “So... is this shit?”

Gavin exhaled long and deep, so relieved. “ _Yes_ , god, it is.”

“Yeah, I’m going to punch Ray in the face next time I see him,” Michael whispered. “I dunno what’s worse-- that he _liked_ this shit or that he suggested the worse movie he could for fucking funsies.”

“D’you notice how the action bits are crap?” Gavin asked, tucking his face in closer to Michael so he could point to the screen, drawing his eye. “The cinematography’s awful. They’re going in and out of slow-down but either the lens is wrong or the image is too out of focus, there’s no bloody _point_ to it. If you’re going to have high-speed camerawork but not bother to make it as crisp as possible, you’re an idiot.”

Michael was biting his lip as he laughed, trying to muffle the sound. The scene they weren’t paying attention too seemed to be some intense bullshit and the audience wouldn’t appreciate it. “I didn’t mean to bring you to a movie that’d offend your delicate professional sensibilities.”

“I’m just going to blame this mysterious Ray guy.” Gavin leaned in even closer and his nose just barely touched Michael’s hairline. “Want to just...?”

“Bail?”

“Yeah.”

Michael nodded. “Cool. Let’s go eat.”

Both of them finished their beer quickly before slipping out. Michael drove them to the restaurant, and over the drive the two of them tried to recall the plot of the movie, working together to fill in the gaps and connect the stupid talky scenes and the stupid action scenes. Figuring out right off that they were both so disengaged from the movie that they each thought the villain was a different person only made the whole thing more ridiculous.

The hostess looked them over with a slightly perturbed twist to her mouth when Michael said, “No, just the two of us.” Gavin hadn’t expected it, had been coasting on the high of a hilarious ripping of a shit movie, and he took an anxious step back, away from Michael under her gaze.

Michael, because he was a fearless bugger, shot her a quelling glare and put his hand on Gavin’s arm, leading him along to the table. “Michael,” Gavin hissed at him.

“No one is going to fuck with you, I promise,” Michael replied fast, without hesitation. There was a hint of threat in his tone, not directed towards Gavin though. It was scary but also... Gavin never considered the idea he’d have someone who’d physically fight for him, but then Geoff had said he would and now Michael looked like he was courting similar disaster.

Just as well. Gavin didn’t do fighting. He was much more geared to running the hell away as soon as things got bad.

There was a lull of awkwardness as they picked through the menus, trying to settle on something. More than once, either of them tried to start talking only for the other to do the same, verbally railroading each other.

“Jesus,” Michael muttered. “Gavin, appetizer, pick one.”

“Erm, well...”

“I’m going to put you in a head lock if you don’t.”

“ _Mi_ chael!”

Michael leaned back and shrugged, grinning. “Sometimes you need incentive, man.”

“Fine. Fine!” As usual, Gavin reacted to Michael being an asshole in kind, so he ordered crispy green beans, the most boring thing on offer. They ended up tasting pretty good, though, so Michael didn’t mind as much as Gavin had hoped.

Michael ordered a steak while Gavin got a burger. (“You can get a burger anywhere, though. Get something nice.” “Well... stands to reason, don’t it, that a burger at a fancy steakhouse is going to be nice, right?” “I.... cannot fucking argue that, goddammit.”)

Gavin’s burger _was_ nice, thank you much, with sharp spicy cheddar mixed into the meat and caramelized onions and a mushroom butter that was so good, Gavin wanted to nick the the recipe and give it to Geoff to make.

“Stop looking so pleased with yourself,” Michael muttered as he cut into his potato.

“What a thing to say to your date,” Gavin mused. “Stop having such a good time?”

Michael snorted. “Stop being so smug about it.”

“Nah, that’s even worse. _You’re_ the one making me so smug, so it’s like... a compliment to you.”

“Oh, is that how it works?” Michael’s voice had flattened out, sounding deeply unimpressed, but his eyes were still bright. Gavin nudged him with his foot under the table only for Michael to catch him between his feet, pinning him. And so the world’s most aggressive game of footsie began. It turned into a best of three, win by two impromptu competition that Michael won handily.

Michael paid (“I asked _you_. You can get the next one.” “I’m going to pick something like Burger King.” “Well, breaking news, you’re a piece of shit.”) and lead Gavin back to the car. “Geoff said if I didn’t have you back by ten, you were grounded.”

“Geoff’s an arsehole.” Gavin twisted in his seat again to stare at Michael. “Did you have anything else lined up?”

“No.” Michael turned on the car, but just looked across at Gavin. “Anything in mind?”

“Ah, dunno. I’m not sure what people do on proper dates.”

“You haven’t gone on a fucking date?”

Gavin rolled his eyes. “I have, thank you much. But I usually meet people out and about. Have some drinks, then see where things go. I’m... not one for following up, really.”

Shaking his head, Michael pulled out of the lot and pulled away. “What about before you came here?”

“When I was in England? God, I didn’t get dates. Have you _seen_ why my hair was like? It was mingin’.” Gavin had no illusions to the fact that puberty, as much as it had sucked at the time, had been very kind to him. “So what do Americans do, then? Find a scrap of road and...” He shot Michael a suggestive look, full of obnoxious eyebrow waggling.

“What, like fucking Lovers’ Lane shit? Is this Pleasantville?” But his mouth twisted a bit, nose scrunching as he considered. “Do you _want_ to do the stupid cliche thing?”

“Well,” Gavin said slowly, sagging in his seat. He propped a leg on the dash and started running his fingers over his jeans idly. “Doing something risque where you shouldn’t. S’nice.”

“Wow, you really are Geoff’s teenage daughter,” Michael muttered. Gavin snorted and looked out the window at the Austin night, staring into the middle distance. It took a while for him to recognize the area they were driving in, and once he did, he waited until they parked.

The Rooster Teeth building was dark at this time of night. Gavin leaned over to look up at it, then at Michael. The engine turned off, the car clicking quietly as it cooled, and Michael reached down to the lever under his seat, sliding it all the way back. His expression was hard to see as he watched Gavin, backlit by a street light. Gavin wanted to learn in, try to discern what he was looking at.

He realized after a moment that he was being invited to.

It was a rare stroke of good sense that had him unbuckling his belt before heaving himself over the gear shift and into Michael’s space. An inch from his face, Gavin paused, holding still even as his bones felt like they were going to vibrate out of his body. He almost wanted to ask if this was okay, if he’d read this right, because, bollocks, maybe it was different with men? Or, rather men other than Geoff, who operated by a whole different rule set than the rest of the world.

Michael shot that down with an irritated, “Oh, _come on_ ,” before he grabbed Gavin by his shoulder and pulled him in.

The angle was terrible, and Michael’s lips were a little chapped, but it was good. Better than it should’ve been, given the aforementioned, but Gavin was more than happy to ignore the crick in his neck to fit his mouth over Michael’s.

Gavin was enjoying the closeness and learning the shape of his mouth when Michael got impatient and pulled again. “Gav, just--”

He caught on fast and it was a challenge to climb over, his long legs having no place to go. Michael was eager to help, dragging Gavin onto his lap and holding him, hands on his hips. Sure he wouldn’t be let go to fall, Gavin surged in. He wasted no time cupping Michael’s face, drawing him into another kiss.

Nipping at Michael’s lips, Gavin took his time playing the bloody tease; he licked at rough texture of Michael’s mouth, pressing his lips to Michael’s and nudging side to side until they were smooth and wet. Michael growled and tried to deepen the kiss only for Gavin to pull back and bite at the corner of his mouth.

“Dammit, Gavin,” he cursed, hushed, following Gavin’s mouth.

“What? What’s the problem, Michael?” He ghosted over the freckled apple of his cheek. “Is there something you wanted?”

“I was thinking of putting my tongue in your mouth, but you seem a little _distracted_ ,” Michael said, punctuated by squeezing hard where Gavin’s hip met his ass.

“You are the one who asked me out on a full date when I would have done you in the supply closet.” 

“Oh, you are so full of--” Gavin took that moment, when Michael’s eyes flashed so nicely in the dim light, to crush their mouths together. His hands slid up, carding into Michael’s hair, so damn soft against his palms, the strands tangling through his fingers. Gavin used that grip to tug Michael in, drinking in the surprised groan he let out, and licking into him.

Michael’s hands clutched at Gavin, moving as he sought out the hold he wanted. One hand bunched in the material of Gavin’s shirt at his shoulder. The other fought to tuck into the back of his trousers, the waistband just a little too tight to work around. Not the best day for skinny jeans, clearly. “Fuck, Gavin.” Michael reached between them, popped the button on Gavin’s jeans, then tried again, cupping Gavin’s arse.

God, it was embarrassing how that turned him on, just that sort of rough handling. That he’d find bruises left on him the next always worked for him so much. He couldn’t help rolling up against Michael, pressing him back against the seat and kissing him like that, balanced over him on his knees. Michael stretched up, pulling at Gavin, desperation eeking into the way he was holding onto him.

With a loud gasp, Michael tore his mouth from Gavin’s. His lips were vivid red against his flushed skin, his mouth wet and used looking. Gavin instantly dipped down, wanting to kiss him again, but Michael tucked his head against Gavin’s collarbone. “Oh fuck...” He said on a harsh exhale. “Gavin. Come home with me.”

Gavin grinned. Letting go of his hair, he twined his arms around Michael’s neck, nosing against his jawline. “I bet you can ask nicely.”

Michael growled and squeezed Gavin hard, making Gavin pant and rock into Michael’s stomach. “ _Please_ come home with me so I can fuck you.”

Gavin chuckled, a little breathless. “Sure, why not.”

 

* * *

 

Getting into Michael’s bed was infinitely better than grinding off against him in Miles’ car. The process of untangling and driving the few hundred meters to Michael’s place seemed impossibly long, but once they got inside, it kicked off. Michael pushed Gavin back down the hallway, unbuttoning Gavin’s shirt as he went. He got Gavin on the bed and was dragging his trousers off before Gavin even got hands on him.

He fought with the tie for a moment, trying to pull it off but only managing to tighten the knot in a non-sexy way. “Jesus, hold on,” Michael muttered and started stripping himself without an ounce of hesitation.

There was ink and freckles revealed for Gavin, and he couldn’t avoid pulling Michael in to stand between his knees so he could kiss the spot on his chest just under his ribs. Then, with more than a little suggestion laced into his movements, just a little lower than that.

Michael made a sound like he’d been punched, and his hands settled on Gavin’s shoulders. For a second, Gavin was ready to be pushed into place and put his mouth to good use, but instead he was nudged back on the bed again, Michael climbing up over him.

“Okay,” he said on a soft exhale, looking down at Gavin’s body. His eyes were looking a little wide-blown. “Okay...”

Gavin smiled. “It’s easy. Here,” and he arched up, kissing Michael again. This was familiar, clearly, as Michael’s nervous tension turned into an entirely different kind of tension as he bent down, exploring Gavin’s mouth leisurely. Gavin let him lead with tongue and teeth gladly, working on the more sticky bits as he did, running his hands down Michael’s sides. It was a light, soothing touch until Gavin took Michael’s dick in hand, jacking him slowly.

Michael bucked, swearing and nudging his face against Gavin’s. His eyes were dark, a wide circle of black surrounded by a thin ring of brown. Pretty. Gavin worked his cock steadily, watching his eyes, taking in the way his breath hitched, how his freckles disappeared as the flush in his face deepened.

A hand around his wrist stopped him. “Whoa, slow down there.”

Gavin let go, instead clutching at Michael’s shoulders and throwing one leg around his hip. “C’mere.”

“You-- shit, Gav,” Michael lay down, pressed flush against Gavin. “You’re good at this.”

“Mmhm. Budge over, yeah?” And without giving him the time to consider, Gavin shoved Michael over and climbed onto him. “Do you have stuff?”

“Stuff... stuff, yeah, uh...” Michael pointed, and Gavin leaned over to grab the bottle of lotion on the bedside table. It was the cheap kind that left your hands slippery after use. Not good for its intended purpose, but great for this. “Should I--”

“I’ve got it,” Gavin said, grinning as he wrapped his hand around both of them. It was a sliding, tight pressure, his hand not quite large enough to make a good job of it, but still good. “All in hand.”

“Uhn, fuck, that’s-- that’s fucking awful, never say that again.” Michael gripped Gavin’s hips again, urging him to move, and before long they were rocking, frotting together. “I wanted to fuck you.”

“Later,” Gavin said, eyes sliding shut. “S’always... later.” His hand braced on Michael’s chest, he started to really get the leverage right. “Michael... _Ffffuck_ , Michael.”

Michael’s hands tightened, hard enough to bruise, and Gavin was a goner. He pumped their dicks hard as he came, spilling over Michael, making a goddamn mess of it.

“Holy shit,” Michael said, dazed.

Gavin sighed, pleased and sated. Then, because he’d wanted to earlier and saw the opportunity, he slithered down Michael’s body, insinuating between his legs before grasping his cock with one hand and mouthing at the tip.

“Gavin, shit, _shit_.” That was it, Michael curled up, came like a shot with just enough warning that Gavin missed most of it. What little caught on his cheek, he brushed away; he’d had worse.

Michael sagged back, breathing hard, staring at the ceiling. Feeling a warm glow of affection and smugness, Gavin crawled up and wrapped himself around Michael’s chest. “Yeah?”

“Fuck yeah,” Michael said shakily, his hand absently settling on Gavin’s back and rubbing slow circles there. Gavin laughed and ran his legs across the covers, enjoying the happy post-orgasm buzz.

“Mm.” He shut his eyes. “Kip now, shower and round two later?”

“God, yes. Especially the sleep part,” Michael said. “Though the fucking’s good too.”

 

* * *

 

Gavin heard his phone buzz a few hours later, but was too busy clutching the headboard and chanting encouragement in a hushed voice as Michael powered into him to do anything about it. And really, getting done just right took precedence.

He grabbed the phone in the morning, after they’d grabbed a shower and crawled back into bed. Michael was dozing next to him, awake but resting. Apparently he was worn out. Gavin smirked at the thought as he checked his phone. He had a missed call and a text.

_don’t want to interrupt, but plz let us know if you’re getting laid or dead. if 1st, have fun! if 2nd, RIP we love you. :(_

Gavin chuckled to himself and started to text Griffon back to let her know it was option one and he did, thanks.

“Who?” Michael muttered. Succinct. Gavin, sat up in bed, rested his hand in Michael’s hair. It was damp and curling up again, the power of the hair iron broken. It was just as soft, though in a more cushy way.

“Griffon. Making sure I’m getting sexed rather than getting dead. They’re thoughtful people.”

Michael huffed out a breath against Gavin’s hip, and his arm slung across Gavin’s lap, drowsily tucking in against him. “You gotta ‘splain what’s up with them someday.”

He... did. Sooner, rather than later. Gavin got Michael, and it was excellent, and he definitely would have him again if he was let. But that probably constituted an actual relationship, and Geoff was right; he’d have to tell Michael about his... _thing _with the Ramseys. Even if he knew it shouldn’t have bearing on the thing with Michael.__

After all, a rare voice of reason whispered to him, that was for Michael to decide, not him.

Looking down at him, though, Gavin decided it could wait a few more hours. Setting his phone aside, he wriggled down to lay next to Michael, nuzzling the man’s face. “I will. Later, though?”

“Yeah,” Michael whispered, not needing volume this close to Gavin. “Later.”

 

* * *

 

Later turned out to be in the afternoon, when they were playing L4D2 with some randoms. They left the mics off, preferring to yell at the randoms from the safety of Michael’s living room, being as dickish and petty as they pleased. Eventually, they got so fed up with one player that Michael put down the controller and said, “Fuck this, we’re taking a break. Want some pizza rolls?”

Gavin raised an eyebrow at the screen. “You’re just going to bail on them?”

“Like I give a fuck about them. Come on.” He headed for the kitchen and pointed at one of the bar stools. Gavin climbed onto it, leaning on the countertop as he watched Michael heat the oven and shake out a few pizza rolls from a bag onto a cookie sheet. “Twelve good?”

“For both of us or for me?”

“You.”

“Yeah, s’good.”

“Cool.” He didn’t wait for the oven to fully heat, just threw the tray in and fetched some sodas, leaning on the opposite side of the counter as he cracked the can open.

“Not going to play while you wait?”

“I’m sure they’re fine on their own,” Michael said, smirking cruelly. It was a good look on him, so long as his retribution wasn’t aimed at Gavin. 

For some reason-- some utterly mysterious, inexplicable reason-- Gavin chose that moment to say, “So, uh. Geoff and Griffon. You... asked about them.”

Michael sipped his drink and nodded, expression politely interested. “Sure.”

“The thing is...” Gavin instantly regretted bringing this up. He needed time to write a fucking _script_ and then rehearse it for a few days, then _maybe_ he’d be prepared for this. If the sodding stars aligned, yeah. He rubbed his face with a hand. “Bollocks, this is hard.”

Michael’s mouth twitched, curving up. “Spit it out, Gavin. What is it, some torrid sex thing?”

Gavin’s face froze. It was clearly a joke, but for a split second his brain didn’t catch that, and he just wanted to know how Michael knew, if it was that obvious. By the time it sunk in that Michael didn’t mean it, he could see Michael’s shocked expression.

“Wait, what? Are you fucking serious?” His voice cracked. “Are you-- wait.” He dug a hand into his hair, tugging at his curls. “Which one?”

“I... Uh.” _Words_ , always with the fucking words deserting him.

“Are you-- holy shit, are you _banging both of them_?” Michael’s jaw dropped, aghast. “How do you even manage that? Or... do they _know?_ ”

Gavin started laughing, high-pitched and a bit hysterical. “Ah, pr-probably? I mean, it’s sort of complicated but usually it’s... both?”

“ _You’re fucking both of the Ramseys?!_ ” Michael pushed back off the counter, his hands up. “Okay. Hold the fucking phone. Okay.”

“I can explain!”

“Please do!” Michael said with a sharp, surprised laugh. “I mean, it’s not like... oh my gawd, that’s not like... your rent agreement, right?”

“Fucking christ, no, it isn’t some sodding indentured sex slave thing or whatever!” Gavin scrubbed at his face. “Just... _hang on_ a fucking minute, all right? It’s hard to explain.”

Michael was pacing the kitchen, his arms up, fingers laced behind his head, in the same position a runner would be in after a sprint when they needed to breathe. “So Geoff lets you fuck his wife?”

“Technically, _they’re_ fucking _me_ and that’s sort of the point, so will you shut up for a second?”

Michael shut his eyes, visibly stopped himself from speaking, then nodded, meeting Gavin’s gaze. “Okay. Go.”

“ _Thank_ you.” He spent a beat just catching his breath. “All right. So it’s not... actually a sex thing.” Michael opened his mouth and Gavin jabbed a finger at him. “Just lemme explain, Michael, please!” Michael subsided, nodding, expression tight and confused. God, this was all gone wrong. He shouldn’t have done it like this. He was _never_ getting a second date after this, dammit. “It’s not a sex thing. It’s... I mean, I love them,” he said, and blinked in surprise at how easily he said as much. “But not like... romantically. It’s-- god, this is hard. They’re family, but not like your mum or your siblings. They took me in and their house is literally my home, more than any other place in the world. I’d do anything for them and I know that’s mutual.”

“Okay,” Michael said slowly, sounding calmer. “But that doesn’t really explain the sex.”

“Yeah, because that’s even harder to...” He didn’t know how else to make Michael understand, so he started the only place he could. “There was a night, a little over a year ago. I was being an asshole and overexcited. And as a joke, Geoff put a bloody leash on me. And just like that, I fucking calmed down. It was weird, but it happened again and again until it was this... game we played.”

Michael didn’t say anything, just listening. That made it easier to go on.

“And I don’t really know more about it than what wikipedia says but... I like it, sometimes. Not all the time, that’s fucking tedious, but sometimes it’s nice to just...” He had to break eye contact, looking down at the counter. “Stop worrying about things, and find.... I guess contentment? In making someone happy? Especially with Geoff and Griffon, who’ve done so much for me, sometimes I don’t know _how_ to deal with what they’ve done, and it’s one way to repay them.

“And...” He let himself smile a bit. “It’s fun. It’s play, just... different.”

“So,” Michael croaked out, “you’re like their...”

“Sub. Yeah. That’s the term.” He chanced looking at Michael again. The man’s face wasn’t a picture of disgust or horror, but it wasn’t giving away much of anything. “And it’s not a sex thing. Except when it is, but the sex is... secondary. S’why I said: they fuck me, not the other way around.”

“How do you...” Michael looked like he was trying to grasp the words from midair. “I mean, how do you do that?”

“I have a collar. Griffon made it. It’s really nice, and... There’s rules and stuff, like that I need to be wearing it for play and my bedroom’s a safe zone and so on. We don’t do it all the time. Only when we’re all feeling up for it, or me and one of ‘em.”

“Do they make you--”

“They don’t _make_ me do anything,” Gavin said, cutting him off. “It’s really hard to explain.”

Michael nodded again, slow, considering. He looked-- Gavin’s wasn’t sure. It wasn’t an expression he’d seen before and picking out the clues in Michael’s eyes, his mouth, the scrunch of his nose, it was all too difficult with his head whirling as it was.

“Say something, Michael.”

Michael shook his head. “I’m thinking.” Then, almost immediately after, “So you love them, but not...”

“Not like...” Oh fuck. The words choked him, a vise tight around his windpipe. _Not like I could you_ was too much, far too much, and terrifying in its own right. He adored Michael, no doubt, and wanted to shag him senseless, but... the rest was all too far off. “Not like that, no. I mean, I literally don’t have the words for it, Michael, you know I’m crap at words.”

“Yeah, you are,” Michael agreed easily, and Gavin almost smiled. “Anything else?”

That was foreboding. “I... don’t think so?”

Michael bowed his head, gaze low. “Okay. I... Shit, I don’t wanna be that guy, but I think I need to think? I dunno.”

Gavin got to his feet, hands up. “That’s fine. It’s fine, seriously. I... I should go, right?”

“Gavin, you don’t-- come on, eat and I’ll drive you back.”

“I’m not really hungry anymore, it’s fine.” He bit his lip and decided, yeah, he needed to go. Michael didn’t look as inviting and lovely as he had ten minutes ago, and it fucking killed him that this had to happen, but Gavin was grateful that Michael wanted to think and hadn’t dismissed him already. Small, small mercies. “I’ll go. I’ll... see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Michael sighed. “See you at work, Gav.”

He grabbed his phone, his shoes, and let himself out. 

He meant to call home, to get a ride. To tell Geoff and Griffon what happened. To figure out what he was meant to do.

But for a while, he just walked.

 

* * *

 

It was like a knife in the gut, how fucking awkward it was in the office on Monday.

He had Geoff at his back, Gavin knew. He’d relayed everything that had happened (outside the sticky bits, which were locked up tight in the vault in Gavin’s brain to be reviewed at his leisure) to the Ramseys and had gotten plenty of sympathy, but not many actual solutions. Griffon was of the opinion there was nothing Gavin could actually do but give Michael space as it was actually his decision what to do about everything Gavin had told him.

And... yeah. That was fair.

But that didn’t mean Gavin had to like it when he walked into the office and Michael looked up at him with wide, conflicted eyes. And when he muttered a hello, how Michael just mumbled one back. And how goddamn _quiet_ Michael was all day, not just to him but to anyone who talked to him. It felt like Gavin’s presence was an invasion of Michael’s peace and calm, which was already carefully constructed since he’d joined the company and uprooted his entire life to move halfway across the country.

Gavin kept his head down, trying to ignore the way he felt so damn guilty for something that wasn’t actually his fault.

They didn’t do any videos together that week. Geoff was wise enough to know when his usual tactic of pushing the two together and telling them to make nice wasn’t going to work, and Jack knew something was up, but couldn’t get a straight answer from anyone. He did make one crack about “the kids’ honeymoon is over, apparently,” and Gavin had just felt fucking lucky that his and Michael’s backs were to Jack. Out of the corner of his eye, Gavin had seen the dirty look Geoff shot Jack; the two of them were old friends and Jack must’ve read danger there because he didn’t comment on it again.

This dragged on until _Thursday_ when Michael recorded a RQ video so vicious and blindingly angry, Gavin couldn’t find a place in the building (outside the sound proof recording booth) where he couldn’t hear the muffled shouting. Distantly, Gavin hoped Michael didn’t completely blow the audio out; it would be unsalvageable even to Rooster Teeth’s extensive audio suites.

The sheer frustration and anger in Michael’s voice gutted Gavin. It was the final push for him to suck up his fear and worry and go to talk. Though, once he set his mind to it, he then had to wait for the right time, when everyone was out of the office. They needed to talk alone.

It was when people started bailing out for the weekend early on Friday that Gavin saw his chance. He was grabbing a snack from the kitchen when he saw Jack leave, waving jauntily over his shoulder. It had to be then. He and Michael would have a scrap of privacy.

Or they would have, if Gavin didn’t walk in on Geoff and Michael sitting together in the middle of the office. Geoff was leaned in, his voice low as he spoke, hands hanging off his knees without any of his usual fidgeting. Michael was flush against the back of his chair, gripping the armrests, looking at the floor.

When Gavin came in, Geoff looked up at him, voice dying immediately. That was everything Gavin needed to know; they were talking about him. Or, him and Michael, as it were.

Geoff stared at Gavin for a moment, thinking hard about something. Then, he got up and crossed to the door, easily side-stepped Gavin. “Errand to run, ‘cuse me,” he said and shoved Gavin into the room before shutting the door.

“Well then,” Gavin said, glaring at the door since he couldn’t glare at Geoff himself. 

Michael snorted. “I will admit, that was the fucking weirdest conversation I’ve ever had with one of my bosses.”

It shouldn’t have been such a big deal that Michael had just said a full sentence to him. And yet it was. Gavin was cautious as he sat down, spinning towards Michael slowly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His head was still low and as Gavin watched, Michael tried futilely to pull his knit hat down ever further on his head. “Sorry about... the last four or five days.”

“It’s fine. I said it was, didn’t I?”

“What, do you think I don’t see how you sulk at your desk?” It was lacking most of the heat his teases and insults usually carried. “It’s been a shitty few days.”

“Yeah,” Gavin agreed weakly. “So did you... think about things?”

Michael nodded. “I did. I still am, I think. Especially after the stuff Geoff said.”

Gavin twitched; he was _desperate_ to know what the hell Geoff said and if it had done him good or ill, but he knew asking outright wouldn’t work. “That so,” he muttered.

“And I think I get that... it shouldn’t be a big deal. That it’s not... like what we were doing.” And _fuck_ , the past tense hit Gavin like a hammer to the chest, knocking the air out of him. “That you and them isn’t like him and Griffon, I get that. But...” Michael’s face pulled into a grimace. “I still don’t really understand it. The sub thing.”

“You don’t have to,” Gavin burst out. “I didn’t-- that wasn’t for you, I would have never asked.”

“Really?” Michael at last looked up at him, taking in the earnest set to his face. “Apparently it’s an important thing for you.”

“But that’s what Geoff and Griffon do!”

“Gavin, you stupid fuck, I _like_ you.” Michael’s lips twitched. “Maybe I even like-like you. Or I... could. And the shitty thing is, if we were just going to fuck, none of this would matter. But...”

“You don’t do casual,” Gavin said for him because he knew how fucking awful it was, having to say the words. The words had weight to them, and Gavin knew _extensively_ how easy it was to let the wrong one slip away and how much it hurt when it landed heavy on your own damn foot. He’d done it so many times. But he knew Michael didn’t do casual. It was writ large in everything Michael did, in the depth of his loyalty, in the way he didn’t let people in voluntarily, but when they put in the effort and made it through Michael’s walls, he never let them out again. Gavin knew all that.

“No, not really. Not with my friends, at least. Not with you.” He sighed. “You want in on this action, it’s not going to be a fuck and run thing. I’m not up for it. Which means the rest of it, it’s going to come up. It’s gonna matter, even if you don’t want it too.”

Goddammit, when did life get this complicated? Gavin rubbed his face, weary. It wasn’t all awful; Michael was still interested. It was just this bloody hurdle in the way, and Gavin didn’t know what to do about it.

When he told Michael as much, Michael laughed. “Yeah, me either. For now, I think we just finish editing and go home and... try again next week?”

Gavin had no counter for that. The smallest of baby steps were all he had, and he had to take them. It was a shit plan, but it was better than nothing.

It was an hour later when Michael started powering down his computers, his work completed. Gavin had been done for a while, but Geoff was still MIA and since he had no other way home, Gavin had quietly dug into his backlog of messages and emails. It was boring maintenance bullshit that he normally didn’t bother with, but he wanted to be in Michael’s company bad enough he was willing to do the bullshit.

Michael was just slinging his bag over his shoulder when Geoff returned and shut the door, locking it. “Alright, kids,” he said, loud and jovial in that way he got when he was ready to _handle shit_ , even if it was the last thing he wanted to do. It was a foreboding tone of voice. “As fun as the past week has been, and _goddamn_ has it be fun-fun-fun, I am going to end up killing one or both of you if I have to deal with this come next Monday. So!” He held up a paper bag, shaking it until the contents rattled. “You guys are going to sort your shit out this weekend or so help me God.”

“Geoff,” Gavin sighed.

“Gavin,” Geoff said in a low basso that Gavin had never heard in the office before, “be a good boy and _shut up_.”

Gavin squeaked, his teeth clicking as his mouth snapped shut. It was an instinctive reaction to the tone of voice, to the way Geoff threw the command at him, to the realization of what was in the bag.

He hadn’t expected this, honestly. Maybe he should have.

Geoff smiled and palmed Gavin’s head with an easy possessive gesture. Gavin shut his eyes and bit the insides of his cheeks, holding very still, aware Michael was right fucking there and, god, Gavin hoped Geoff knew what he was doing.

The hand in his hair left as Geoff approached Michael. “You’ll need this,” he said, holding out the bag. Michael took it and looked inside. His face froze, staring dumbly for a moment before he glanced at Gavin, fixed his gaze on Geoff.

“Uh. I don’t think I understand.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Geoff reassured him. “You understand fine. Now,” he went back to petting Gavin idly. “You’ve got all weekend, but take breaks. Gav’ll let you know when he needs his space, he’s gotten good at that. He gets snuggly, so let him be the little spoon when you go to bed. If he gets ornery, have him sit by himself for a while, it’s the best way to punish him. Don’t let him use the sad puppy eyes on you either.”

Michael looked at the bag, then to Geoff, and back again. “Okay?”

“Good. And you,” Geoff’s hand tightened in Gavin’s hair, pulling back until he was looking Geoff in the face. “Be good. Use protection. No more than two beers before a scene.”

Gavin nodded along. Nothing new for him.

Geoff smiled, smoothing Gavin’s hair back down. “Good boy. Well, that’s it. You’ve got my number; call if you have any questions. Have fun. Be ready to actually fucking work on Monday or I will murder your dumb asses.” And without another word, he left.

Michael was silent for a long moment, staring at the bag. Gavin admired Geoff’s plan, how he just steamrolled Michael and shut Gavin up before either of them could throw a spanner into the mix. But it could all fall apart here; Michael just had to say no.

Fortunately, Michael lifted his eyes to Gavin and said, “I’m headed home. You... you coming?”

Gavin beamed. “Yeah. Right behind you.”

 

* * *

 

The silence that settled over them as they walked to Michael’s apartment broke when his phone started beeping. “Shit--” He tucked the bag under his arm, keys hooked around his finger, and tried to get his phone out of the pocket of his backpack.

“Here, gimme,” Gavin murmured, taking the keys and grabbed one of the backpack’s straps, holding it up for him.

“Thanks.”

Gavin started unlocking the door as Michael checked his phone. “‘Course. Who is it?”

“Um. Geoff, but...” He frowned at the display. “I don’t know, I think it’s for you.”

“Hang on a tic.” He swept in, tossed Michael’s keys on the coffee table and slung the pack over a chair before taking the phone. Michael locked up after them, toeing off his shoes and pulling off his hoodie as Gavin read the text.

_for gavin: breaks means slow, red means stop._

“Oh,” Gavin said softly. “No, it’s for you. Those are my safe words.”

Michael’s head suddenly got caught in his hoodie as he forgot how arms worked. “What? Your--”

Clicking his tongue, Gavin put down the phone and went to help Michael escape. “Safe words. Breaks means slow down or do something else. Red is a full stop.”

“Wow, okay.” Michael looked at Gavin, at the paper bag, and back. “Why those words? I mean, wouldn’t you want something more unique so you don’t say it accidentally?”

“I tried that. First full stop was _moist_. But when it came time to use it, I couldn’t remember it and it made things worse. So, simple’s better.”

“So you’ve used them?”

“Yeah.” Gavin took the hoodie from Michael and went to hang it up in the entry’s closet. While he was at it, he nudged the shoes in as well; just tidying, making himself useful as he gave Michael space to breathe. “A few times. More in the beginning though. Griffon and Geoff know my limits pretty well.”

Michael looked stricken at that. Hand shaking slightly, he opened the bag and pulled out the contents; Gavin’s collar and the leash. He held them carefully, like they might bite him. “OKay. Okay, what... how does this work?”

“Oh, little boy,” Gavin said kindly and shook his head. “What I think is that we should put these down,” he took the collar and leash carefully, rolling them up into a coil of mix-matched leather and put them on the table, “and maybe play a game. Something work hasn’t managed to ruin for us.”

“What about--”

Gavin shrugged. “Who cares? I mean, Geoff isn’t _your_ dom. You don’t have to take his orders.” And just to drive the point home, Gavin fetched two controllers for the 360 and settled onto the sofa. “What’ve you got in the rig?”

Michael watched impassively as Gavin made himself at home, and there was a moment Gavin thought he was about to be ejected from the apartment, that Michael just wasn’t up for this and all the bullshit that went with it. But that look of discontent passed in the span of an eyeblink and Michael went to the console. “Nothing worth playing.” He picked up the Playstation controller instead, smirking. “I just grabbed the entire Sam and Max series.”

“Isn’t that a bloody point and click adventure?”

“You haven’t tried it? Oh, Jesus, we’re going to play some right now. You’ll love it.”

Just like that, the collar was forgotten. Gavin fetched beers for them as Michael loaded up the game and introduced Gavin to the sideways logic of adventure games. The idea, he said, was that since Gavin’s brain worked in weird ways and adventure game logic worked in weird ways, Michael hoped Gavin would turn out to be the Chosen One of the genre.

What actually happened was Gavin made a lot of bad guesses at what needed to be down and threw his hands in the air with an outraged sound every time one of the puzzle solutions was revealed.

At least the presentation was nice. Gavin liked Max, perhaps a little too much.

The game was broken into episodes, and by the end of the fourth one, there wasn’t a jot of tension between them. Gavin sagged over on the sofa, tucking his legs up, and by the end of season one, Michael was laying against him, under Gavin’s arm, his head on Gavin’s chest. “You’re a good pillow,” Michael noted. “Maybe it’s that shag rug you’re smuggling under your shirt.”

“Probably,” Gavin agreed coolly. “You got season two or what?”

“You’re gonna love the Santa episode.”

As the game loaded up, Gavin’s phone rang and he pouted. “Michael.”

“Yeah?”

“Move?”

“Nah.”

“Goddammit, Michael,” Gavin grumbled and braced himself on the arm of the sofa, arching upward as much as he could with Michael’s weight on him. It was a struggle, but he wiggled his arm into his own pocket and retrieved his phone. “Ha--” He brought it to his ear. “Hullo?”

“Gavin, are you okay?” It was Griffon, sounding harried. “Geoff just told me what a fucking _stupid_ thing he did.”

“I’m fine. What’s the problem?” Gavin settled back into the cushions, one arm slung around Michael. 

“Have you done a scene?”

“Nah, we’re just playing a game right now. Why?”

Griffon blew out a long breath. “Thank fuck. Put Michael on the phone.”

“Why?”

“Because whether Geoff realizes it or not, most people don’t just instinctively know how to dom and I’m not having you two hurt each other because Geoff neglected to explain _anything_ to Michael. Put him on.”

“All right...” He shifted the phone away from his mouth. “Michael. It’s, uh. For you.”

“Calling on your phone for me?” He caught a handful of the sofa back and pulled himself up. “Who is it?”

“Griffon. She... just, here.” He passed his phone over, then excused himself to the kitchen to get more drinks. He tried not to be too obvious about checking over his shoulder, but he wanted to watch Michael’s face.

The gymnastics Michael’s face went through did not disappoint. His eyebrows lifted higher, higher as he listened. His eyes were wide enough that Gavin could catch the dark brown hue all the way across the room. His gaze flicked to Gavin, then away. “I-- yeah. No, I don’t really know... Hold on.” Michael got up and let himself out onto the balcony.

Gavin watched him go, then swore under his breath. There was an immediate bad idea, to press his ear to the door and see if he could hear what was going on. The only thing that stopped him was that he’d only catch Michael’s half of the conversation at best, and it wasn’t worth it.

He settled in on the sofa and got back to the game; Michael had obviously played this one before and Gavin was finding himself fairly invested in the series so far. And, most importantly, it was something to pass the time as he waited for Griffon to... what? Give Michael a crash course in domination over the phone? That should’ve been a stranger idea than it was; if anyone could do that, it was Griffon.

By the time Michael was done, Gavin had stolen his laptop to check GameFAQs because this game was _taunting_ him with how inexplicable and stupid it was, and he was tired of rubbing every item in his inventory on everything else. He was reading to find a puzzle answer when Michael pushed the lid of the laptop shut.

Gavin peered up at him. “So. How’d that go?”

Michael drummed his fingers for a second, thinking. “... I wish I’d taken notes.”

“It’ll be fine. We don’t have to...” He trailed off when Michael slid the tumble of leather over to himself and extricated the collar from the pile.

Michael didn’t look at Gavin as he tested the collar between his hands, bending it this way and that, pressing his nails against the colorful stitches and rubbing the soft fuzz of the inside with his thumb. “It’s nice.”

Gavin nodded.

When he touched Gavin, it was a simple touch of his hand against Gavin’s jawline. Even so, Gavin’s eyes fluttered shut, his head tipping back with the slightest push. His hands went lax, dropping the controller into his lap. He could hear Michael’s sharp inhale and reveled in how surprised he sounded. Michael’s fingers traced down his throat down to his shirt, hooking there and pulling lightly.

Gavin reached down and grabbed the hem of his shirt before pulling it off in one smooth movement. As soon as it was gone, he lay his head back again, eyes still closed, waiting.

“Holy shit, Gavin,” Michael murmured. “Hold still.”

He did, and felt the familiar texture of his collar around his neck as Michael put it on him. “One looser,” he said quietly as Michael started to buckle it, and felt the collar settle, just as tight as he liked it and no more.

Michael twisted the collar around his neck, pulling at it lightly to check the fit. “That good?”

Gavin hummed and nodded.

“Okay. Okay...” Gavin felt the sofa dip and blinked his eyes open to watch Michael settle in. He was watching Gavin right back, wary enough that Gavin gave him a smile. 

“I’m fine, Michael.”

Michael nodded. “Cool. Okay. Um.” He took up the controller and then shifted sideways, laying across the sofa like Gavin had been before. It wasn’t until he crooked his fingers though that Gavin crawled over and lay down against him. “Yeah?”

“Mmhm,” Gavin mumbled, curling up and tucking his legs in with Michael’s. “Thank you.”

Michael’s hand brushed through Gavin’s hair a few times before he unpaused the game and picked up where Gavin left off.

 

* * *

 

They made it through the rest of the second season’s games by one in the morning. Michael bought the next set for download before declaring he was going to bed. Gavin pushed off him to let him up and watched as he picked up the leash and headed to the bedroom, flicking out lights as he went.

Gavin followed quietly after a minute, peeking into the bedroom, uncertain.

Michael was climbing in when he spotted him. “Well, don’t just stand there,” he said.

Gavin smiled and joined him. He slept with his face pressed against Michael’s chest, arms wrapped around his ribs. He slept deep and long in that way that only a weekend could afford him.

Even so, he was awake before Michael. It turned out that given the opportunity, Michael slept like he was in a coma. There was sunlight pouring in even though the slats in the blinds, right across his face, and yet he slept on. He also slept through an upstanding example of morning wood, which Gavin seriously considered for a moment. It might be a good safe way to wake Michael up; no one got angry at the person giving them a blowjob.

Best not. Gavin had other plans. So instead, he slipped out of the bed, grabbing his leash as he went. He stole Michael’s toothbrush and washed down his face before clipping the leash on and sauntering to the kitchen. The length of corded leather was very precise; when it trailed down his back, it just barely swung above the ground.

There wasn’t a waffle maker or even any batter mix, so Gavin started raiding the fridge and cabinets for anything he could use. Eventually, he found a frozen packet of bacon that he threw in the sink under warm water until it became useable. There was also something labeled English Muffins; Gavin wasn’t sure what gave them special allegiance to the Queen but they’d go well with a fried egg and that was all Gavin cared about.

The bacon was resting on a paper towel as the eggs cooked when Gavin heard the water running in the bathroom. He also heard the footsteps when Michael walked into the room, but kept his back turned and tended to the food, humming brightly.

“Mornin’,” Michael grumbled, making a beeline for the coffee that Gavin had made.

Gavin smiled at him. “Afternoon by now, I think. Sleep well?”

“Hngh.” Michael leaned his elbows on the counter, cupping the mug of coffee and inhaling the steam. “Coffee.”

“I see that. You’ll have brunch soon too.” He swayed into Michael and nodded to the bar stools. “Why don’t you go sit?”

“Nngh,” Michael said, and went. Gavin finished up the food and dished out plates within five minutes, carrying them over and settling in on one of the stools himself.

Getting some food in him did wonders for Michael; he stopped doing that tired overlong blinking and managed to say more than indistinct grunts. He even took notice of Gavin, his sparse dress (just the boxers), and the way his leash hung down his back. Gavin saw the moment Michael really took in the state Gavin was in and it would be a good moment to pounce.

But Gavin just smiled and cleared the plates. He rinsed them and put them in the washer before he felt the lightest tug of the lead. Instantly, he turned and stepped into Michael’s space, saying nothing.

“Wow. Okay.” Michael cleared his throat. “Right. So.... brakes and red for me too, okay? Griffon said I needed... You know.”

“Duly noted,” Gavin said. “So, what would you like to do?”

“Right now? Are you...” He could see Michael biting the inside of his cheeks. “What should we do?”

“Anything you like. That’s sort of the point.”

“Anything,” Michael said, testing the word in his mouth. “So if I told you to get me off inside of five minutes using just your mouth?”

Heat curled up and made itself at home in Gavin’s gut. Already thinking about it, just how fast he’d hit his knees and if Michael would be kind enough to let him on the carpet instead of the tile as he worked, he licked his lips. “Yeah.”

Michael suddenly smiled devilishly. “If I told you to put on an apron and clean up around the place?”

Gavin leaned back, trying to keep the frown off his face with zero luck. It was remarkable, how fast his boner died. “I mean, you could, but that’s a bit of a waste, innit? You get a bloke at your beck and call, falling over himself to do you well, and you use him for chores? You don’t need me to tidy the place-- and it’s _already_ pretty neat, I might add, so unless you’ve got a thing for a man in an apron--”

Michael looped the leash around his fist and pulled. It wasn’t hard enough to urge Gavin forward, so he instead went silent, head bowing.

Michael exhaled a faint laugh. “Oh ho, man. That’s... amazing. How does Geoff not do this at the office? You’re so _quiet_ ,” he said, equal parts amused and awed.

Geoff could, probably. He could handle having Gavin on a lead in the office and the benefits of that, and maybe they’d both get more work done. But Michael was new like a shiny coin and Gavin doubted he had Geoff’s capacity for self-denial. Testing that theory, Gavin insinuated himself into Michael’s space that much more, using his height to his advantage as he bent around Michael, head low and eyes half-lidded.

“Uh.” Michael looked as though his brain had suddenly gone offline. Just as expected. “H-how about...”

Gavin tilted his head to the side, still smiling gently. “Do you think the next run of Sam and Max is installed?”

That helped Michael snap out of his sudden daze. There was a spreading pink flush melting into the skin with his freckles. It made Gavin quietly thrilled, to see how easy it was to affect him, like the leash and its power to control ran both ways. “It-- yeah, I mean. We can check. It’s the PS3, though, so it may need more than nine fucking hours to install a two hour game.” As he spoke, he further wrapped up the slack of lead around his fist and when he took a step back, Gavin matched it, following.

Michael actually _shuddered_ , the obedience clearly a turn on for him. It was strange to see that; Griffon and Geoff were used to this game and always had their cards closer to their chests. There was that, and also how with Michael it was different. Gavin still wanted to be a good boy and to serve Michael in whatever way he asked (less so the cleaning though, frankly), but it simmered so much hotter in him, like he might burn up from it.

He reached up, found Michael’s fist curled with leather almost all the way at the collar, and wrapped his hands around Michael’s, holding him close.

Michael stopped and used his hold to pulled Gavin down. Their noses bumped together and Gavin rested his forehead against Michael’s, waiting. Michael shut his eyes tightly and exhaled hard through his nose. “I am trying, I swear.”

“Trying what?” Gavin asked.

“To not... do this. Not yet.” He sounded almost pained.

Gavin nuzzled against Michael’s face softly. “Why not?”

“I think... I’m enjoying this. A bit. It’s weird, but good.”

“And you think we’ll stop as soon as you, what? Give in a bit?” Gavin grinned at him. “Oh, Michael. You are allowed to employ some... positive reinforcement.”

All the breath rushed out of Michael at that. “Fuck. Okay, come here, come on.” He let the slack in the leash slip free of his grip, walking back until he hit the sofa and sat down. He pulled, and Gavin came, climbing onto him, hands braced on Michael’s shoulders.

Michael clutched at Gavin, tensing, ready to drag him in. The moment of sharp desperation passed though, and Michael instead curled one finger into Gavin’s collar and dragged him into a kiss. It was slow and wet, open mouths sliding restlessly together, and it took every ounce of Gavin’s restraint to do nothing else but push against Michael’s tongue and let Michael push back.

He had no idea how long they stayed like that, tucked into each other and kissing long and deep, but eventually there was a tug of the leash and Gavin broke away. He was panting and hard enough to pound nails, but subsided, dazed and turned on.

“Right. So, uh. Hand me the controller,” Michael said, similarly out of breath.

Gavin did, pushing the PS button as he did, hearing the system whir on. “I can’t see like this,” he pointed out, trying to think about that instead of how much he was fucking _aching_.

“Oh, yeah. Hold on.” Michael shifted around, spreading his legs out wide and nudging Gavin until he moved like he wanted. Gavin’s legs wound up bent over one of Michael’s, stretched out to the side, his back against the arm rest. He was sat in the space between Michael’s legs and it was surprisingly comfortable, watching the telly with his head against Michael’s chest and Michael’s arms around him, holding the controller. “Good.”

“Yeah.” As Michael navigated to his games, Gavin plucked at Michael’s tee. “Michael?”

“Yeah, Gav?”

He tugged more at the shirt, giving Michael a hopeful look.

Michael’s mouth looked good curved up into a smile like that, red and bruised. “Really?”

“Well. S’only fair, right?” Gavin waved to his own shirtlessness. “And I’ve been good, yeah?”

Michael thought about it for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, you’ve been good. Positive reinforcement, we can do that.” And his shirt came off, tossed to the other side of the sofa.

Gavin grinned, pleased, and leaned against Michael again to watch the game. They’d apparently crossed into the episodes that Michael hadn’t played through yet as he grew slowly more frustrated as the puzzles took extra time to figure out.

After about ten minutes on the same puzzle, with Michael going to every room in the level and trying every item he could on everyone, Gavin said, “Should I google it?”

“No. I’ll get it.” He sounded more stubborn than actually confident.

Gavin shrugged and, feeling a little bored, turned his head to lay against Michael’s chest. He’d hear it if something worthwhile happened on the telly. 

Here, though, Michael’s skin was still pale, but he was gathering a tan like anyone who spent time in Texas would. This close, Gavin could see the colorful ink of his tattoos and just how deeply they contrasted with his open skin. He was seized by the image of making a mark on him somewhere like this, where it’d be hidden by his shirt. He had no needles or even so much as a biro, but the idea was still so tempting and Michael was still fighting with the game.

It was something to do, to lightly kiss at the smooth skin on offer. It was right there after all, and Gavin was not a man of restraint. There was no reason to not test Michael’s concentration with a wandering mouth. And when Michael didn’t stop him, didn’t so much as look away from the screen, Gavin got bolder. 

His teeth nipped in tiny bites across Michael’s chest and collarbone. Faint twinges of pink lingered. Wanting more, Gavin dragged his teeth over his skin in a random pattern, then traced the lines he left with the very tip of his tongue.

He felt Michael’s breath hitch, but he didn’t reacted in any other way. Except maybe the way his heart beat a little faster; Gavin could feel it against his lips as he twisted into Michael, curling his hands around Michael’s shoulders so he could settle over his heart and start to worry at the skin. Gavin’s teeth bit down, slow and with gradually increasing pressure, all until Michael shivered. He let go and just brushed his lips over the mark, sucking, light at first, then again with more and more force.

He left a fucking cheerful red imprint of teeth in the spot and smiled, proud of his hard work. Without delay, he leaned in and started the process against up higher, against the vulnerable skin where Michael’s neck met his shoulder.

At some point, the controller fell away to the floor with a thump and Michael caught Gavin with a fistful of his hair. He didn’t pull Gavin away, though, just held on as Gavin sucked another hickey onto him. “Fuck, you--” Michael groaned. “You are fucking distracting.”

That was a compliment as far as Gavin was concerned. He grinned as he finished the second mark, then dragged his tongue over it. Michael’s face pinched together in a wince against the sting and he finally used his grip on Gavin to direct him. It was easy for Michael to slide sideways, laying out on the cushions. Gavin leaned over him, between his legs. When Michael pushed down, he went, dragging Michael’s boxers down as he did.

Michael’s dick bobbed up as soon as it was uncovered, like it was fucking waving hello to Gavin. A tease to his core, Gavin leaned down just enough for his breath to ghost over it, happily watching how it jerked.

“Gavin, fuck, come _on_ , please,” Michael said, voice sharp and pleading.

“No, no. Don’t ask,” Gavin said, propping himself up as far as the hand in his hair would allow. He gave Michael a steady look. “Don't ask.”

Michael sucked in a breath. “Okay. Okay, god. Gavin,” he tried again, voice harder. “Get me off. Now.”

That was more the thing, and when Michael insistently pulled at him, urging him to get to it, Gavin revelled in that tiny pain. He wrapped his arms around Michael’s legs and put his mouth on him. Michael jerked up, moaning, his hand tightening enough to probably pull out some of Gavin’s hair. Even that felt good in its own way, how Michael had Gavin under his hand even as Gavin had Michael at his mercy. It was better than he imagined.

Gavin swallowed and licked at Michael’s cock in small steps. His gag reflex was a stingy little shit, but he could go slow and work his hand in tandem with his mouth. He’d learned this well, had enjoyed being taught. There was something so amazing about this, getting his mouth on someone where they were vulnerable and needy, and seeing just how he could take them apart.

Two hands wound up in his hair, petting through it roughly. Michael was uncoordinated and sloppy as he tugged and smoothed Gavin’s hair in turns. It was an instant indicator of how far gone he was. Gavin sucked hard at the head of Michael’s dick, his thumbs stroking hard up and down the shaft as he did, and Michael was losing it. He was just cupping Gavin’s head, holding him near like he’d die if Gavin pulled away. Gavin looked up from his work and saw Michael’s head thrown back against the arm rest, mouth parted as he kept gasping for air, muttering on every breath, “Fuck, Gavin, fuck, you’re so good, so fucking good, Gav...”

Gavin shuddered, all shivery pleasure at the praise and the broken edge to words. He let go of the cock with one hand, reached up and lay his hand over Michael’s. Michael’s hands tightened and he got with the program, starting to thrust little by little. The praise gave way to loud groans and Gavin gave one last, hard suck before Michael came.

“Oh fuck,” Michael said weakly. “Oh my gawd...”

Swallowing was difficult, and Gavin coughed a bit, sitting up to wipe at the corner of his mouth. It was better than having to run to the sink though, and given how Michael had somehow found the leash and was holding onto it tightly, Gavin figured he should just stay.

“I’m uh...” Michael blinked at him, looking like he hadn’t made it back to coherence yet. “Give me a sec, just...”

Gavin laid out across Michael’s chest, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “No rush,” he murmured, and took his time watching Michael recover. He could feel the hard, deep breaths Michael was dragging in, felt pleased for it. Grinning, Gavin ducked his head down and started to bite at Michael’s skin again.

“H-hey,” Michael said wearily and tugged. Gavin swallowed his disappointed wound as he stopped. There was such appeal to the idea of keeping Michael in the apartment all day, turned on and stupid from orgasm in turns, leaving marks all over him so that he winced at the sting every time he moved at all. It was a new idea, and Gavin had spent the last year of his life trying as many things as he could to see if he liked them; he could imagine not loving Michael broken down like that.

“You look like you’re going to eat me,” Michael murmured.

Gavin smiled with teeth. “I’m just following direction.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Michael said, laughing quietly. He cupped Gavin’s cheek, his thumb tracing Gavin’s mouth. Gavin hummed, shutting his eyes and leaning into the touch with easy affection. Laying across Michael, he could feel the sharp inhale and opened his eyes again to see Michael _staring_ at him.

“Hm?”

“I think I just... got it. I mean... You’ll do whatever I want.” Gavin nodded. “Someone could seriously fuck you over when you’re like this, though.”

“Sure, maybe.”

“No, not _sure, maybe_ ,” Michael said, rolling his eyes. “Not everyone is so damn quick to put themselves at someone’s mercy.” Gavin shrugged, because it was such a non-issue to him. “I can have you do whatever I want, so I’m... in charge of keeping you safe.”

“Yeah,” Gavin agreed easily. 

“Well, it’s a new concept for me, asshole. No one’s ever...” His fingers brushed the hair at Gavin’s temples back. “Trusted me like that.”

“I do.”

Michael kept staring at him like he was a wonder. Gavin waited him out; all of this was obvious to Gavin. He’d gotten off on the wrongest of the wrong feet with Michael, but even when he was being an excitable little shit, Michael was worth trusting. He didn’t care about a lot of people, but he cared deeply when he did. Gavin sooner expected to be screwed over by anyone else at the company than he did Michael, Ramseys excluded.

After a few minutes, Michael pulled Gavin in for a kiss. He pulled a face at the taste, but kept kissing him until it was just a simple wet slide of their mouths, as instinctive as breathing.

Then, “What do you want?” Michael asked against Gavin’s lips.

Gavin smiled. “You tell me,” he said, trusting Michael to get it right.

 

* * *

 

“We can’t do a fucking point and click game,” Michael said Monday morning as he booted up his work area in stages. “It’s like an unfilmable achievement, it doesn’t work.”

Gavin swung side to side in his chair. “I dunno what the problem is. It’d be fun.”

“Oh my god, Gavin.” Michael spun to look at him and started listing off his fingers. “One, each one of those games is an hour and a half _minimum_ , and you can’t edit it down without confusing viewers. Two, we’ve both played _all_ of them now, so any video we do would suck because we wouldn’t talk about the game. Three, we couldn’t talk over it. Four, you’re stupid, shut up.”

Gavin pouted. “Well, fine then. Be a killjoy.”

“I will, thank you,” Michael shot back, reaching for his headphones.

Geoff walked in, a coffee in his hand, and stopped two steps into the room. He stood there a moment, looking at both of them hard, a rare calculating quality to his gaze as he did. “Huh. So... I’m a fucking genius, right?”

Gavin turned away and said in a light, sardonic tone, “Good morning, Geoffrey, and how was your weekend?”

“No, no. No.” Geoff held up his hand. “I don’t think so, little asshole. I wanna hear it. Did I or did I not save you and your boyfriend’s sexy fun with my stroke of genius?” When Gavin just snorted, he leaned over and slapped him upside the head. “Gavvy-Wavvy?”

Gavin tried to duck away, but Geoff just hauled him back against his chair and leaned down to rub his beard against Gavin’s neck. “Ouh, Geoff! Geoff, stop!”

“Say it!”

“Piss off!”

“Saaaay it!”

Gavin squawked and tried to get away for a few more seconds before giving in. “Yes, you’re a genius, we’ll have a sodding parade for you, let go!”

Just like that, Gavin was released. “See? Was that so hard?” Geoff’s attention turned to Michael next. “So. You get it now?”

Michael looked between them. “Yeah, I get it.” He bent down, rifling through his pack until he pulled out the paper bag. He passed it to Geoff, who instantly stashed it under his desk, out of sight.

“Any problems? Lingering resentment? We need to sit down and do some fucking couple’s therapy or anything?”

Gavin winged a pen across the room at him.

“Good,” Geoff said cheerfully. “As soon as Jack gets here, I’ve got assignments for everyone. Michael, I want you to do a special Rage Quit this week; there’s this new game out called Slender, and I’ve got the _best_ idea for it.”

It was disconcerting to Gavin, how normal the day was. He got his ass handed to him by Geoff in their Halo tournament, pestered Jack for about an hour until he agreed to let Gavin tag along for lunch (Geoff had a meeting to go to), and spent all of AHWU trying to make Michael scream on camera with moderate success. The room got quiet later in the day as everyone took their early-week meetings and finished up footage from last week. Gavin sacrificed far too much of his afternoon to a Lets Play, one of the newer series they were doing which were a big hit but took bloody _ages_ to put together.

There was no lingering awkwardness between him and Michael. Michael still tried not to laugh at his jokes, looked at Gavin like he was mental whenever he proposed a hypothetical question, and shoved his headphones over his ears when he got fed up with Gavin. It was all relentlessly _normal_ and Gavin thought it should’ve felt unusual.

That was probably the rub between him and Michael. Put him in a collar and order him around and Gavin was fine. It was the rest of life that got a bit complicated.

But, if Michael was fine, was still shooting him glares and secretive smiles in turns, then Gavin could be fine too.

At the end of the day, Gavin said bye to Michael and pushed a single finger against his chest. Michael stiffened, turning red very suddenly as Gavin hit the hidden mark under his shirt, over his heart. “Tomorrow, then?”

“Yeah.” Michael smirked. “See you then.”

He climbed into the car with Geoff, ready to go home. Geoff looked him over severely. “Okay, Gav, seriously. Are you good?”

Gavin would have been embarrassed by the slow, genuinely pleased smile that forced its way onto his face if he could be arsed to care. “Geoffrey. I am _tippity top._ ”

“Good.” His broad hand settled on Gavin’s neck, and Gavin felt such a flush of warmth in his chest, he ducked his head, hiding the beaming look on his face. “Ready to go home? Maybe put on an actual change of clothes?”

Gavin chuckled. “Yeah, all right.” He watched out the window as Austin passed into the early evening, the tortuous sun sinking low enough in the sky to spare the city the worst of its heat. Speaking of deadly fury, “So, did Griffon have you sleeping on the couch the _entire_ weekend?”

“Fucking Christ,” Geoff said, pained. “You have _no idea_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus fucking christ. So. This got.... long. /laughs a little hysterically
> 
> Thank you to Cass for the hand-holding and dealing with my author diva moments again. This fic wouldn't have happened without her thoughts and encouragement. Also thank you to Emily for reading along and flailing with me. Flailing is a past time best shared with friends.
> 
> Now something else can devour my life for a while, though knowing me I will likely write more in this fandom. God, what has my life become...
> 
> BTW if you want to follow me, my fic update tumblr is [here](http://lucysguiltysockaccount.tumblr.com/) and my main blog, where I rant about various forms of media but mostly scream at my friends about how the Ramsey-Free family is ruining my life, is [here](http://donotchoosesidesyet.tumblr.com/).


	3. the ribbon 'round my wrists (says "do not open until Christmas")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a bet is made, it’s the Ramseys’ turn to ruin Gavin’s life, and a new creative use of the leash is found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIRST SEQUEL FICLET! Takes place after the events of the rest of the story and is meant to be a bit more fun.
> 
> Contains D/s, collars, and our special kink guest star: orgasm denial. Subspacing is implied, but not directly discussed.

Deep down in his heart, Gavin blamed Ray.

Ray was the newest member of the AH team to have moved into the Austin office. He and Michael were fast friends, even working together on side-projects like their podcast. They both came from those _New_ states up in the corner of the country that Gavin subconsciously grouped together into some superstate where all the grumpy urbanites came from. They got on like a house on fire, and Gavin liked Ray well enough.

Ray was funny. He was the first with the self-deprecating joke. He could make any gimmick into comedy gold and had this odd habit (which Gavin only discovered when he was editing) of going off on his own whenever things got stalled during recording and doing something ridiculous. It made for great footage. He wasn't the fastest or most apt editor of the team yet, but he picked up on things fast.

Basically: a solid hire, bravo to Mr. Ramsey for his recruiting skills.

But fucking _Christ_ , the man was oblivious.

It was the sort of night after work that usually involved half the office descending onto one of the local bars to sample its wares of beer and liquor. Unfortunately, it was also springtime in Austin, so the gorgeous sunny weather had taken a turn towards the sort of miserable humid storminess that Gavin had in part moved out of England to escape. Outside the windows was a pelting rain that sent most of the people at the office straight home. The only hold-outs were the people who were friendly enough with Michael to force their way into his apartment. It was near the office and had alcohol; it did well as a pub-replacement.

Thus, rather than it being just Michael and Gavin lounging around the apartment, they were playing host to Ray, Lindsay, and Barbara. They were often part of Michael's podcast and had so secured themselves a standing invitation to Michael's place.

Gavin didn't mind hanging out with groups of people. It was simply this particular group that put him on high alert. Lindsay was a cunning young woman who never forgot anything said to her and, worst of all, she recorded RT Lifes and Behind the Scenes videos. There was often a camera on her person and a devilish gleam in her eyes. Michael adored her. Gavin was terrified of her.

Barbara, though. Gavin had known Barbara for ages. She was a known quantity. He _knew_ she was an instigating little shit who took no greater joy than sending Gavin into incoherent fits via their high-stakes game of Who Can be More Shameless.

It was like Gavin was standing on a pier, watching a tidal wave of terribleness roll in, resigning himself to wait for landfall.

It hit landfall about three hours into the drinking (beer and rummed up Coke for everyone but Ray, who stuck to just Coke) when Ray said, "So did you move to America to get laid?"

Gavin, as he often did, thought of Geoff and Griffon, and squashed down the nervous laugh that threatened to eek out of him. "What? What're you on about?"

"I mean, the accent. It's super sexy over here, but back in England it wouldn't be, right?" Ray said with a bit of a slur to his words. Gavin often wondered if Ray got drunk by proxy. It'd explain why he put up with his friends and their high-functioning alcoholism.

Barbara, helpful as ever, chimed in, "Well, it's not his only asset. I mean, look at that nose."

"It's hard not to," Ray said quickly, then accepted a high-five from Lindsay.

"I don't like any of you, honestly," Gavin said.

Ray laughed. "But no, seriously. It helps, right? The accent? Barbara? Lindsay?"

Lindsay gave Gavin a slow, measuring look. "I would say it makes him about... forty percent more attractive. Forty, you think?" She asked Barbara.

Barbara nodded. "It's probably just enough that I'd do him on the first date instead of the second if things went right."

Gavin squeaked and looked to Michael for aid. Michael, who was curled up in the sofa next to him, was too busy looking at his phone. Apparently having upgraded from shitty cell phones to an actual smartphone had not yet lost its shine. Gavin rather wished it had; he missed having _someone_ in his corner.

"So how much tail do you actually get?" Ray asked, leaning forward on his knees, staring at Gavin. "Like, in a week?"

"Uhm. It depends? What's..." Gavin took a gulp of his beer, wishing his buzz would hit him a little harder. "I'm not sure how to answer that."

Ray thought about it for a second. "How about... how many times do you get off a week? Like, with someone, not your hand."

"More than you," Gavin demurred, trying to ignore how Lindsay and Barbara were smirking at each other and trading elbow nudges.

"No shit, but give me a ballpark number here."

"No! Why would you possibly want to know?"

"Virgin," Lindsay said through a cough.

"Shut up."

Barbara gave a dramatic gasp. "What if he is? Gavin, do you get someone in bed only for your weird dick to scare them away? That's so sad!"

"My dick is not weird!" Gavin shouted.

Michael, we was apparently paying more attention to the conversation than Gavin thought, said, "I'm sure the neighbors are glad to now know that, Gav."

" _Mi_ chael."

Michael just smirked at him.

Ray, who was a stubborn shithead, said, "I'm going to just throw out some numbers. Oh, shit, lets do this like _The Price Is Right_! Everyone guess a number, try to get as close as possible without going over."

"How about we don't, actually?" Gavin half-shouted back. "God, you are such a prick, Ray." He sighed, frowning down at his beer, mentally counting. "It's like... It varies. Six to eight, I guess?"

"A _week_?!"

When Gavin nodded, the three of them burst out simultaneously. Even Michael looked up from his phone and gave Gavin an unreadable look.

"Oh my god, don't you chafe?" Barbara asked him, then Lindsay: "Do boys not chafe?"

"I am going home," Ray said. "I am going to put on BBC America. I am going to learn to fake a British accent if its the last thing I do."

Lindsay said to Michael, "You need to get him neutered. I'm serious. That's ridiculous. Do you ever get any sleep?"

"What?" Ray asked.

Barbara rolled her eyes and pat Ray on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it."

Gavin decided he was just going to tap out of this one; draining his bottle, he set it aside before allowing himself to slide sideways, his face landing in the crook of Michael's neck. Nuzzled up against him and the smell of lavender detergent and rain in his clothes, Gavin could pretend their mad friends weren't there.

He heard at a distance Ray say, "Linds. Lindsay, get a picture."

"Oh, like I need another one for my fucking collection."

 

* * *

 

At the end of the night, Michael nudged Gavin back to wakefulness. He'd dozed through most of the conversations (and apparently a game of Jenga, if the state of the coffee table was anything to go by) and when he blinked back to consciousness, Ray had Barbara's keys in hand and was saying, "Kerry's got a spare bed, so we're gonna go crash at his place."

Lindsay, who took over the sofa as soon as Michael pulled Gavin to his feet, said, "Cool. Remember to drink water. We have shit to do tomorrow. Barbs, I will feed you to Brandon if you're late."

Ray looked between Lindsay and Michael and smirked, winking. "Don't worry about her. You guys have _fun_ , okay? Okay, later." Helping Barbara along, the two of them left.

Gavin, who admittedly wasn't really at his best, didn't know what to make of that. "What was that about?"

Lindsay chuckled. "Not only is Ray the only poor sap in the office who hasn't figured out that you two are fucking, he thinks Michael and I are."

That level of obliviousness was almost impressive, Gavin thought.

The thing with Gavin and Michael was that it took about a month before everyone in the fucking office knew about it. Gavin sometimes wondered about that progression and how it had worked, had developed a few theories (Jack must've figured it out, and he told Joel _everything_ , but Joel was a tight-lipped guy, so someone else must've said something, perhaps Kerry, or maybe Monty had psychically picked up on it and then told Burnie), but the gist of it was that someone knew and that meant everyone else knew within a week. Rooster Teeth's family was tight-knit and gossiped relentlessly.

The only hold-out was Ray, who worked in the same cramped office, who went to lunch with them more often than not, who watched Michael lean over some late afternoons to ask Gavin to come over, who heard the way they joked about each other and the way they _didn't_ joke about each other. Somehow, Ray had decided that was just normal friendship.

Gavin wondered sometimes if perhaps Ray was queer as a three dollar bill but very, very repressed. Perhaps he wasn't actually aware gay meant anything other than homophobic jackasses calling something bad.

Michael went to the linen closet and got out a blanket and spare pillow, throwing them at Lindsay. "Here. Need anything else?"

"No, I'm good." She settled in, slipping off her trousers and curling up under the blanket. "Though if you two are going to bang, do me a favor and wait thirty minutes. I'm a heavy sleeper, and I don't wanna hear the bed creaking."

"Ha, hahaha, ha," Gavin said. "Like you wouldn't hide stash a go-pro in there if you could."

Michael sighed and took Gavin by the arm, pulling him away. "Let's not give her ideas. Night, Lindsay. Come on, Gav."

Gavin was more than happy to strip down, curl up in bed, and sleep. He was blurry from drink and from his nap, and there was work in the morning. He should have immediately nodded off and slept hard.

But, of course, Michael climbed in next to Gavin, and Gavin tucked up against him, innocent as you please. Then there was a bicep under his hand, and he could feel the muscle of it. He wanted to get closer, to get more skin to skin, and without really meaning to found himself nuzzling against Michael's jawline, making a few soft noises.

"Are you serious right now," Michael whispering into Gavin's ear.

"I don't know what you mean," Gavin replied, just as quiet, even as he slid onto Michael and started to rock his hips in a slow, sweet circle.

Michael cursed quietly, annoyed, but gripped Gavin's hips, helping him find the perfect angle and pressure. "Don't make a fucking _sound_ ," he growled, voice sharp but hands gentle as he pulled Gavin in.

 

* * *

 

Lindsay already headed out by the time the boys woke up, having folded up the linens and left a note on top, thanking Gavin for being quiet and chiding Michael for not keeping his voice down. Michael crumpled up the paper and threw it at Gavin's head as he made cinnamon sugar toast.

"I cannot believe you," Michael said. "You have a _problem_."

Gavin gave him a guileless blink. "What's wrong? You want less cinnamon?"

"No, the-- no, give me all the cinnamon, it's great." He climbed onto one of the stools at the breakfast nook. "I'm talking about you being oversexed. Six to eight times a _week_?"

Bribing Michael with sweet things to get some calm and good humor out of him was a long-standing tradition between them now; Gavin gave him an extra slice of toast, sliding the plate over to him. "I don't keep a tally. It was just a guess."

"Yeah, but you're only over here two or three nights a week. So," he paused, picking up a slice and crunching into it. The taste got a happy hum out of him, which was a good sign. "So, with Geoff and Griffon--"

Gavin shrugged. "A few times, yeah, depending. It's not a big deal."

"You're a sex addict, Gavin," Michael said gravely.

Gavin laughed. "Oh, come off it."

"I am dead serious."

There was a vindictive part of Gavin that wanted to point out that Michael was the easiest person to roll for a shag. As far as he was concerned, Michael was just as bad, only he had fewer opportunities. "That's not fair, though. I shouldn't've even included the times with Griffon and Geoff." He took a long sip of coffee. "Mm. ‘Cause with them it's--"

"Not about the sex, you've said, many times." Michael chewed another piece of toast slowly. After swallowing, he said, "Okay. Prove it."

"Prove what?"

"Prove you're not a goddamn nymphomaniac." As the idea settled in, he spoke faster, with more confidence. "Yeah, let's do that. I bet you that you can't go until Monday without getting off. Not with me, not with the Ramseys, and not from jerking it."

Gavin balked. "What? No, piss off."

"See! You won't even consider it!" Michael slapped a hand on the table. "Name your price. Come on. What will it take for you to do it?"

"I dunno!" The way Michael was staring at him, _waiting_ , made it clear that he wanted an actual answer. Gavin scoffed and turned resolutely to his coffee, trying to shut the whole stupid thing down. "I can't believe you. You want to go four days without having sex with me."

Michael jabbed a finger in his face. "I didn't say that. But my point is that I am not _horrified_ by the idea of not getting off for four days. You are."

Gavin started to say something a few times, then just shook his head. "All right, little boy, all right. I want..." It had to be a steep price. Something Michael wouldn't go for, but that fit the weight of the bet. That would end the stupid thing before it began. Gavin cast around his mind for ideas; Michael was so often game for the things Gavin wanted to try, it was hard to come up with something.

It came to him eventually. "All right. I go four days without any sort of orgasm, and you let me put you on Ray's desk in the middle of the day and kiss you."

"Done," Michael said without hesitation. Gavin froze, jaw dropped. "What? You think that's going to clue him in? Ray thinks it's not gay unless balls touch anyway." He reached out and put a finger under Gavin's chin, pushing his mouth back shut. "Okay. When you lose..." Michael looked around, then fiercely grinned. "You have to clean this place up."

Gavin groaned. It was a long-standing argument, the tidying of Michael's apartment. Gavin thought that since he had to handle chores and cleaning at the Ramsey house, which was substantially larger than Michael's place, making him clean here as well was cruel. "All right, if you insist--"

"In a French maid outfit," Michael finished with a shit-eating grin. "The whole thing."

" _Mi_ chael!"

"Come on, Gav. It's not a good bet without good rewards." He held out his hand. "Four days. Starting now. If you make it to Monday, you can get to second base on Ray's desk. If you can't resist getting off, then you play dress up for me."

Gavin glared at Michael's hand, wishing there was another way out of this. Michael just grinned hard enough to dimple his cheeks and waggled his fingers tauntingly.

"Fine," Gavin grumbled, and shook Michael's hand.

"What size are you? I want to get the outfit ready."

He rolled his eyes. "Let's go before we're late, you tosser."

 

* * *

 

To say Gavin wasn't worried about the bet was an understatement.

Sure, the initial idea of it was awful and Gavin wanted nothing to do with it. Not because he had a _problem_ , but because... well, orgasms were great. He was something of a fan of them. They released tension and stress. They helped him sleep. They helped him wake up in the morning. And they were the most fun you could have with another person, clothes on or off. He really didn't think he was being unreasonable about them.

But fine, Michael had a point to make and he was going to fail because the secret was this: Gavin was the one to grab Michael's sexuality by the throat and screw it into the wall. Gavin was sort of the master of Michael's penis. Yes, he had pined for Michael for months (and admittedly still did, having moments when he was just _desperate_ for Michael's attention and affection), but when it came to the matter of dicks, Gavin won handily.

He was ready for whatever Michael threw at him.

Michael eased into it, at least. The man was not one for subtlety, but he did all right when there was competition at hand. The very first inkling that Michael was going to try break him was early in the day, when Geoff and Jack were working on a PIG tournament and Gavin settled onto the sofa to watch. Michael joined him, cinched up so their sides were pressed right up close.

Right around the time Geoff earned the I, hurtling towards yet another shut-out at Jack's hands, Michael's arm went around Gavin's shoulders. His fingers ghosted against Gavin's ear, the pad of his index finger tracing the shell of his ear. It was an effort to exhale slowly, calmly, because Gavin's ears were always sensitive and Michael knew it.

The faint trail of Michael's nails ran down from his earlobe, tracing his jawline and then under his chin to trace the tendon in his neck. It felt good, Michael's fingers pressing Gavin's buttons with such precision it was like a safecracker's deft touch, trying to get to the prize inside. Gavin tipped his head back on Michael's shoulder, letting it go on for a moment.

Then he rolled his head to the side, meeting Michael's gaze with a grin, In the same moment, he put his hand on Michael's knee, sliding up, tracing his inseam.

Gavin was close enough to see Michael's pupils widen behind his glasses. Gavin smirked at him and whispered, "Oh, little boy," in a low, pleased rumble just to see Michael's face go pink from the curl of the words.

Jack cleared his throat loudly, and Michael jumped up, leaving the room as fast as he could without actually running. Gavin smiled at Jack. "Sorry, I missed it, who won?"

It wasn't Michael's only attempt, of course. Just the first and the weakest. The problem for Michael was that now Gavin saw it coming when Michael dimpled at him across the kitchen island before slipping into the supply closet.

Gavin followed, because he was bad at turning down a direct challenge like that.

He wound up with his back to the closed door, Michael's hands in his hair as he licked into Gavin's mouth. It was an ace kiss, the sort you only got from someone after months of trial and error. Gavin enjoyed first kisses, he'd had a lot before Michael showed up and turned his life upside-down.

This was better, with enough familiarity between them to know just how much one of them liked their lips bitten or just how much one enjoyed having their hair pulled. It was the sort of kissing that was more than idle foreplay. There was a purpose to it.

Michael should've known better.

Gavin broke the kiss and bumped his nose against Michael's playfully. "Wanna lock the door?"

Michael smiled. "Gaaviiin," he singsonged. "Throwing in the towel already?"

"Not even slightly," Gavin replied, breaking away to flip the lock. It wouldn't help if someone went to get the key, but they'd have warning for that at least. "But I thought you might like to get off."

Michael was still gaping at him as he pushed him deeper into the dark of the closet, away from the door. "Try to keep it down, yeah?" he said before backing Michael into a spare bit of wall and dropping to his knees.

"Oh. Oh shit." He already sounded wrecked as his belt was undone and legs were shouldered apart. " _Gavin_ ," he hissed, equal parts turned on and nervous. Then, low and rolling out from deep in his chest, "Oh, oh my _gawd_ ," as his hips moved forward against Gavin's mouth. "Oh, we shouldn't be doing this here."

Gavin let Michael's dick go for a moment to point out, "You started it."

"I know, I know, put your mouth back, fuck."

Gavin left the closet first, grabbing a bottle of water before settling back into his desk and opening up his email to check on things. He was cool as a cucumber, just drinking his water and doing his work diligently. Michael wandered in a few minutes later, and there was still some color in his face, but not enough to be conspicuous. It was fine. They were fine, and now Gavin was set for the rest of the day; an orgasm hit Michael like a Benadryl. He was calm to the point of sedation as he got back to his editing, sagged back in his chair like his fingers might go lax as he fell into a nap at the drop of a hat.

Gavin bit his lip and tried not to stare, but Michael was just _precious_ like this. He decided he should definitely blow Michael in the office more often. The aftermath is nice to look at.

Essentially, he was certain he'd gotten away with it until Geoff leaned over him, squeezing his shoulder with one hand and whispering in his ear, "Nice sex hair. That come from a bottle or do your knees hurt?"

Gavin looked at Geoff's reflection in his monitor and gave him a ballsy smirk. "What, you can't tell the difference?" he said back, even quieter.

Geoff grinned and backed off, smoothing down the mess of Gavin's hair with one hand. "Employee handbook, dipshit."

"Sorry," Gavin said, lying.

"Uh huh, I'm sure."

 

* * *

 

Michael caught onto Gavin's ploy soon enough. It all seemed to come together for him when his shower was crashed by Gavin. "Oh, you scheming little shit," Michael hissed angrily even as he braced his forearms on the tile wall.

He had really wonderful shoulders. Gavin bit them lightly, tasting sweat and warm water, letting his hands wander over them before sliding down and getting to it. "Are you complaining?"

"Am I complaining? Uh, _yeah_ , I'm complaining, you asshole. Ungh, _fuck_ ," Michael groaned, thumping his head against the wall. "Ooh, oh god... You-- the thing is that you never cheat. You're a fucking rules lawyer but you never cheat. I--I should have... Gavin, jesus, I should have laid down more rules. No fffuckin' batting your eyelashes at me. No using sex as a weapon like yo-- you're a goddamn honey trap." His head tipped back, puffing out breaths between his words. "You're, ohmigod... You're playing with fire."

Gavin pressed Michael flat against the wall for a second and kissed his ear. "Am I, babe? Best pour some water on that then," he said ominously before letting go, spinning the dial on the shower to the coldest setting, then climbing out.

"Gavin, you _motherfucker_!" Michael shrieked at top volume as Gavin bolted. "I am going to _murder_ you!"

At least Gavin spent the rest of the night fairly certain Michael wasn't going to try to seduce him.

Though he did think Michael _accidentally_ kicking him out of bed was a bit extreme. Doing it twice was just plain mean.

There wasn't much else Michael could do, as Gavin saw it. The arrangement with Gavin was that he still basically lived with the Ramseys, though often made himself at home at Michael's. After spending most of the week at Michael's, he planned to hitch a ride with Geoff back home. There, he'd win the bet handily and would gleefully defile Ray's desk come Monday.

His confidence fractured a bit when he came back from a business lunch with Burnie and found Michael and Geoff talking quietly together. That on its own was nothing to worry about. Geoff was their project manager. He spoke to his underlings in hushed tones.

But the grin that Geoff gave Gavin jolted through him like he'd been struck. Oh. Oh _shit_.

"We'll take care of it," Geoff told Michael, patting his shoulder even as his gaze remained on Gavin.

"Appreciate it. Thanks." He flipped Geoff a salute as Geoff got up and left the room.

As soon as the door was shut, Gavin threw a glare at Michael. "What have you done, little boy?"

"Nothing against the rules," Michael replied coolly. "You going to get that Lets Play edited before five or what?"

"I'm really sorry about the shower thing."

"No, you're not." The only thing scarier than Geoff's smile was Michael's. "But you will be." And he pulled on his headset before turning back to his monitor.

That left Gavin with only two things to do: he could slowly work himself into a fit worrying about what the hell he'd gotten himself into, or he could finish the Lets Play that needed to go online by the end of day. He settled on the latter, because the distraction was the best he could hope for.

The Lets Plays were slowly growing more and more complicated while simultaneously becoming a fixture of their work. He was slowly becoming used to loading up five to six streams into Final Cut and building a coherent narrative out of them. Picking through footage, finding the hidden jokes, sliding the clips into place-- the released product was always solid and worth the effort, but _bollocks_ , the amount of effort put in was a little ridiculous. It was a good thing that Gavin genuinely liked his co-workers because there was no better way to turn his opinion of them than being elbows-deep in an hour and a half stretch of their footage for an extended period.

He'd been working on the video for hours, at the point where he was clipping in and out bridging footage and trying to watch with a fresh eye, making sure the viewers would follow the progression of events all right. The lights in the office were off and the sun was finally dropping behind the skyline, making AH's tiny room darken, the temperature sliding lower. Gavin's eyes stayed settled on the screen, deep in the zen state of editing, one hand hovering over the hotkeys, the other on the mouse. He could go for his jacket, but he'd never get this rhythm back.

He shivered slightly, but otherwise tried to ignore the sudden chill.

"Hey, you," Michael said, behind him. The headphones on Gavin's head shifted, nudged off one of his ears. "I'm headed home. You need anything?"

"Hm," Gavin grunted noncommittally, his eyes tracking the timeline in front of him.

"Sure I can't get you something?" Hands settled on Gavin's shoulders, then drifted down his arms. Michael's palms were so warm as the ran across his skin, there was a tingling feeling where they touched, a ghost of warmth. Gavin shivered again; he didn't realise he was so cold. Maybe Michael was just that hot.

Ha.

He blinked slowly as Michael's handed ran back up, then down again. It was simple contact, but it was so _distracting_. "Michael."

"Come on, Gavin," Michael said into his cheek. His fingers started to dig in, pulling along the muscles, and Gavin could feel it all the way to his fingertips, how a full week of computer work settled into his arms and hands. "I'm not going to see you until Monday." A thumb pressed into the pulse point of his wrist, and the sensation when he dragged his hand back to Gavin's elbow was so _good_ , Gavin's eyes slid shut.

"There's a phrase," Gavin said faintly. "Something like disproportionate retribution."

Michael's arms lay against Gavin's as he twined their fingers together, holding Gavin's hands against the desk firmly. "I just wanted a decent goodbye for the weekend," Michael protested. He nudged Gavin's head back so he was sagged back, then bit the curve of Gavin's ear, right above the lobe.

"You're such a shit," Gavin exhaled softly, letting his head lay back against Michael's shoulder.

Michael chuckled in his ear, and the sound is so close and so lovely, Gavin's toes curled in his shoes. He pushed back, and Michael let him seek out that extra contact, nosing against Gavin's stubble. When Michael spoke next, it was just a murmur, "I've watched you over here, trying not to worry. You thought you'd get away from me and be set, but you failed to realize that Geoff likes me too, Gavin. Maybe he's not going to wrap a collar around my neck," and Michael's mouth took a moment to suck a light pink mark into the skin under Gavin's jaw, "or make me beg for it..." The shift is fast, when Michael let go with one hand so he could tip Gavin's head back further, palm against his Adam's apple. "But he likes me, and he'll do that for you. Doesn't that sound fun?"

Gavin made a strangled noise at the back of his throat, the closest he can get to an actual vocalization.

Before Michael could do anything else, the doorknob shook, and Michael broke away, his hands and mouth leaving Gavin all at once. Gavin gasped, suddenly bereft and aware of how uncomfortably hard he was.

Ray walked in, humming distractedly. "Hey guys, what's up?"

"Gavin," Michael said simply before grabbing his bag and leaving, offering Gavin one more dimpled fond look as he went.

"You guys, man," Ray said, shaking his head. "You guys are funny."

Gavin groaned internally and let his head thump forward onto his desk.

 

* * *

 

Getting into the car with Geoff had never been so nerve-wracking. There wasn't anything unusual about it; Geoff had the car running, Gavin hopped in, and they proceeded to wedge the car as far into traffic as they could.

"So, um." Gavin ventured quietly as they sped along at 15 MPH. "How was recording today? Any good material?"

Geoff smiled at him. "Gavin. Buddy. You seem nervous."

He probably shouldn't've given Geoff such a minged off look, but after a while Gavin forgot to be careful around Geoff. It was a strange thing, to have a human security blanket (and Griffon had that right, Gavin was so past the point of arguing it) who was also the worst influence in your life. It was a strange relationship to navigate and Gavin wasn't always great at it. That was probably going to bite him in the ass over the next few days.

Geoff, for what it was worth, just chuckled at him. "Oh yeah. We are going to have some fun with you, little asshole."

Letting his head sag against the window, Gavin sighed. "It's just not fair. I was here first. You should be on my side."

"I'm on the side of fun and chaos, you know that."

He did, was the thing.

Geoff got them home in one piece and did as he often did, putting his hand on Gavin's neck. "Come on, Gavin. Don't pretend like you're not going to enjoy this."

Gavin said nothing, because he didn't want to lie and had the sneaking suspicion that Geoff was right, the bastard.

It was something of a surprise when Gavin got inside, toed off his shoes, accepted a warm hug from Griffon (who was extra sawdust-y, so she was likely doing amazing artistic stuff or something), was fed some top notch food, and then went to bed after a few beers.

He watched Geoff turn in early, having done nothing more than tugged Gavin in during Sportscenter and used him as a teddy bear for a while. When he was left with Griffon, he thought _this is it_ with hot dread in his belly.

She just smiled and kissed his cheek. "Get to sleep. I'm going to steal you to help me with some painting tomorrow."

And that was it. Gavin meandered to bed, noting the closed door to the master bedroom, and wondered what was going on. He wasn't complaining, though... there was a twinge of disappointment in going to sleep in peace, not having been fucked with at all.

Before he fell asleep, his iPhone lit up. There was a message from Michael with a picture attached.

 _what size are you?_ it said, accompanied with a photo of a pair of shiny black shoes with a slight heel.

Gavin laughed and shook his head. Such confidence from his boy. He tapped back, _46 or 46.5, depending on the make._

Twenty seconds later: _what is that in American?_

 _Goodnight, little boy_ , Gavin sent back before putting the phone aside and rolling over for sleep.

 

* * *

 

He was woken up by Griffon, who brazenly climbed onto his bed with his collar in one hand and an apple in the other. So clearly his grace period was over and the games were beginning. Gavin would be more confident about his ability to resist the combined wiles of the Ramseys if he had time to himself to get ready, maybe take care of his usual morning situation.

"Don't give me that look," Griffon said crisply, putting the apple to Gavin's mouth. Gavin bit into it, holding the apple for her as she buckled his collar on. "Though I don't mind _that_ look. Have we ever gagged you? I forget."

Gavin took a second to take a bite and chew. "Not yet."

"I like that ‘yet.' So much potential." Her mood was far too cheery for the early hour, especially for a weekend. "But some other time. I told you I wanted your help. I have a bunch of new installations that need paint or staining. So eat up and come outside as soon as you're ready."

He took another bite of the apple; it was one of those pink-yellow ones, and very sweet. "Can I shower first?"

"You're only going to need another when we're done, so don't bother." She tweaked his ear and leaned in for a fast kiss, licking her lips after for the lingering flavor. "See you soon."

With a task waiting, Gavin went to the bathroom, took care of a few basics, including telling his dick to chill out for god's sake. He dressed in the oldest clothes he had, ready to have them ruined, and went out to join Griffon.

"Here, boy!" Griffon called, leaning out the doorway to the work shed, waving Gavin over. Gavin jogged over and in, coughing immediately at the thickness of the air. There was a strong smell of cedar and some sort of musky oil. Gavin hooked his shirt over his nose for a few moments as he got used to it. Griffon watched this, amused. "You okay?"

Gavin tentatively took a deep breath, held it, and released. "Yes."

"Good. If you get light headed, let me know. Otherwise, you can take this," she handed him a brush with long, rough bristles, "and get all the sawdust off the statues."

Gavin nodded and took to it. Griffon had gotten a lot done in the last week that Gavin had spent at Michael's. There was as varied of statues as a crow with outstretched wings, a gargoyle carved from pristinely dark wood, and a tall pole with what looked like embroidery cut into it. Some of the detail work was so fine, he only saw it after blowing away dust from the thin cuts. "That's what the stain's for, sweetie," Griffon told him when he mentioned it to her.

Eventually, Gavin sat on the ground, working over the delicate design work laid onto the pole. It was a pain to clean out, but it wasn't often that Griffon wanted his help with her work, so he kept quiet about it. Above him, Griffon had a paintbrush and a tiny jar of green paint. She leaned past Gavin, reaching out to dot some paint into the grooves. He finished and leaned back on his hands to watch her. The way she worked was odd; it looked haphazard and imprecise, but before his eyes he watched all the loose drips of paint resolve themselves into a wonderful curve of color fleshing out the designs.

Griffon caught him staring and smiled before briskly swiping at his nose. Gavin yelped and scurried back on in an awkward crab walk before rubbing his face. "Ugh, it's cold!"

She threw her head back, laughing. "Oh god, it's all over your face now."

"Thanks," Gavin muttered, getting to his feet and looking around for something reflective, but finding nothing. "Griff _on_."

"Oh, hush, you're fine. It's not toxic." She picked up another color and got back to work. "Want to start staining the crow?"

Staining didn't require as much finesse as her painting did, so Gavin figured it was safe to do. She showed him briefly what to do, and he followed along before being set loose. The crow darkened and slowly turned shiny as he went along, the stain soaking into the word, darker in some places. The ribbons of wood grain and stain melded together, adding a whole new texture to the piece.

It also left Gavin's hands stained, but Griffon pointed him to a bottle of olive oil and it took off a majority of the stuff.

"See? That wasn't so bad, was it?" Griffon said, and the alarm bells in Gavin's head started ringing.

"Uhm."

She smiled over her shoulder at him as she set the paint aside. "Gavin." She crooked her finger. "Come here."

Head ducked, he obeyed, stepping into her space. Her hand ran down his arm, touch light. "It amazes me that we still haven't gotten you painted up yet."

"Needles," Gavin said to explain.

"I know, I know." Her thumb brushed over the soft skin along the inside of his arm. "Still... Lay back."

When he hesitated, Griffon helped him, urging him back into the workbench. It was the perfect height for him to be knocked back onto it, his feet leaving the ground as Griffon pushed him down flat, one hand splayed over his chest. Gavin watched, trying very hard to hold still, as she leaned over him and grinned.

There was a paintbrush in her hand. "Not as permanent," she said, "but no needles."

The cool touch of paint dotted over his skin. Her work was deft and light, short lines and perfect circles of color added to his skin. The sensation was so strange, how it lingered, how he could feel acutely where he'd been marked. His eyes closed as she painted the line of his brow, the slight dip of his temple, his cheek, and down the side of his neck. It was a swirling design with loops and wavy lines, running all the way down to his shirt.

"Sit up," she said curtly, and pulled Gavin's shirt off when he did before pushing him down again. She looked over his chest and shook her head. "Werewolf."

Gavin snickered. "Sorry."

"At least your shoulders are free." And her painting continued, leaving wide circles around his shoulders. The lines carried down his arm, and Gavin bit his lip as the ticklish feel traveled down the inside, where his skin was paler and softer. It shivered through him, and Griffon's grip tightened.

"Oh yeah. You'd look gorgeous with tattoos," Griffon told him. She left his palm with pigment spotted all over it, then set the brush aside and pressed her hand to his, linking their fingers. "One day."

The paint was already drying, spread thin over his skin, and he felt how it was trying to bind their two hands together. It was strange, how he could feel it as the paint slowly dried. When she let go, the paint resisted just slightly, and Gavin looked and saw how his entire palm was coated.

Griffon hummed contemplatively. "Budge up a bit."

"I'll smear the paint."

In response, she gripped his arm, where she'd laid wide spiralling lines, and ran her hand through it. The paint smeared, leaving the phantom impression of her fingers around his bicep.

Gavin moved, more securely on the table, and Griffon climbed up with him, her paintbrush reloaded with another color. She braced herself over Gavin and started in again, this time tracing his collarbone with a slow, wet drag of the brush.

He was suddenly a canvas for her. There was a clear idea driving her movements, her artist's mind building a work into the planes and crevasses he had on offer. It was nonsense patterns, most quickly smudged before they could fully dry, but more than anything he felt heightened. Every cool touch he felt like a hit in the gut, and breathing started to become difficult in the wake of all that careful attention.

Paint laid, Griffon tossed the brush aside and started running her fingers over Gavin, dragging all the lines into new shapes and mixing the colors and generally making a fucking _mess_ out of him, all with her tongue between her teeth, carefully focused. He lifted his head, trying to look, but Griffon shifted, balanced one knee against his chest, holding him down.

Oh, well. That was... It was hard not to focus on the way he was pinned, how every one of his movement was firmly rebuffed. Griffon wanted him to lay back and take it and someday it would stop being a heady rush, how much he wanted to.

Gavin let her work, staring at the ceiling, and honest to god thinking of bloody England. Of all the damn rain. Or that thing he did with Dan and the bathtub. The time he took a paintball right to the arse. Anything to take the edge off how much he was enjoying this.

"Do I not have your _attention_ , Gavin?" Griffon said. Her hands, covered in paint, pressed to his face, a palm against each cheek, her fingers curled up into his hair. She pulled him up and kissed him; and it was most definitely _her_ kissing _him_. He opened his mouth when her tongue traced his lower lip and he went easily when she turned his head and drove deep into him mouth, like she had right of conquest. Which: accurate.

It was almost painful when she broke away and climbed off him. It was like ripping off a plaster, sharp and sudden. He tried to follow her, but she grabbed him and started to yank his shirt off. "Lean over the table, face down."

He obeyed. Oh _fuck,_ he obeyed so damn fast. His shirt went somewhere he didn't care to know and he lay his chest across the smooth wooden surface, bent at the hips. He felt Griffon coming up, on her knees over him, could feel her weight against his tailbone. There was no way he could move like this, even more effectively pinned than before.

Gavin reached up his arms to hold onto the far end of the table, but Griffon moved them back down. "Like this," she directed, leaving him with his hands near his chin, his elbows bent. Her hands pet over his shoulder blades, down his ribs, like she was taking stock of her canvas. "Just like this..."

He nodded, unable to make a sound. His throat was tight, and he clenched his fists in a white-knuckled grip as the paint went on his back. She kept one hand planted on his shoulder, for leverage and balance, and the other dragging a different brush, a thinner one, up along the center of his spine. The touch was feather light, but so far from ticklish. "Oh my god," Gavin choked out, rolling his forehead against the table under him. "Oh fucking bollocksing hell."

"You don't say," Griffon deadpanned. The line of paint went clear up to his hairline, and the next framed the left side of his spine, followed by another opposite. The design slowly grew; the lines up his back fanned out over his shoulder blades, pressure lighter and lighter until the swirls vanished from his skin. He tried to picture it from just the sensation-- a tree, maybe?-- but focusing too much on the feeling of it, the tiny details and the slow shift from cold wet paint to drying paint pulling against him, resisting him with every labored breath he took, it was a slow, delicious torture.

He felt her lean over him and blow across the design, careful not to touch or smear any of it. Gavin's nails dug into the table as he fought to hold still, moaning so loud he worried someone might hear. It'd be bad if the neighbors thought the work shed was some sort of sex dungeon. She laughed, bright and pleased, and blew over him again.

The steady weight of her on his hips, crushing him into the table, it didn't fucking help the situation to say the least.

After a few moments of her urging the paint to dry, Griffon leaned down and kissed the curve of his neck. "So good," she murmured. "You did _so_ well, Gavin."

"Nngh," Gavin said, thumping his forehead against the table. "Th-thanks." God, he didn't want to be done. He wanted Griffon to push his pants down, make real _use_ of him until he was shaking apart under her, the lines of paint cracking as he failed to lay still and take it--

Rain. Inception bathtub video. Paintball to the arse. Not enough. Gavin thought about Ray having an orgasm and the face he'd make. Yes, that'd do.

Griffon smiled sweetly at him when he finally stood up, amused at how wrecked he was. "That was fun."

"You are an evil woman," Gavin told her.

"Hey, you're the one who made the stupid bet with your boyfriend."

The irony of Griffon Ramsey passing judgement on _his_ bets was not lost on him, but he didn't bring that up. "He called me a nymphomaniac!"

Griffon looked pointedly at Gavin's dick, tenting his jeans. "Shoe fits. Go wash up, use a lot of oil. But get Geoff to take pictures first; I really like how some of that came out."

Gavin shuffled off, covered from forehead to waist with paint, wondering if maybe wearing the goddamn skirt and heels wouldn't be so bad.

 

* * *

 

It took over _an hour_ to get the majority of the paint off. A lot of it had dried enough to flake right off when Gavin picked at it, but there were plenty of patches where the paint had spread too thinly and clung to him. And even then, when the paint was scrubbed off, each color stained into his pores, leaving a shadow of itself behind. He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror and saw the lingering splotches all over his, all the way up to his face and down his arms and he just hoped that it'd face before Monday. Not even the most conspicuous turtleneck jumper would save him here.

It also happened to be a reminder of his morning every time he caught a glimpse of himself, either just by looking down at his own arms and hand or passing in front of a mirror. And that was not helping him deal with his situation. The tension was humming through him, nearly constant now. It wasn't like he was walking around with a hard-on, but he had the distinct impression that his fuse was dangerously short and everything was liable to light him up.

And Geoffrey Lazer Ramsey was a bloody bonfire.

Gavin spent the afternoon just walking. He listened to some music and did some lazy laps around the back yard. He stood in his room, trying to play some Borderlands only to grow too antsy. He paced around the house, looking at things he'd seen a hundred times before, making some more sunshine tea as the jug was running low, then pacing again.

"Hey, Picasso," Geoff called eventually. "Come here." Gavin shot him a dirty look over his shoulder, and Geoff responded, "Let me try that again. Come _here_ , boy."

Well, that was an entirely different matter. Gavin sighed, deflating, and shuffled over to the sofa. He aimed for the spot next to Geoff, but was yanked down onto Geoff's lap with one hard tug of his arm. He yelped, and scrambled around a bit. Geoff, as ever, had the strength advantage over him and Gavin had little choice in the matter; he sat between Geoff's legs, an arm locked around his waist to hold him back against Geoff's chest, and his legs wound up hooked over Geoff's knees. He tried to bend his legs enough to reach anything, his toes grasping at nothing but air.

"G-Geoff." He kicked his feet.

Geoff's hand lay flat against his stomach. "Sit still." When Gavin complied, he tipped his head down and kissed Gavin's head. "Good boy."

The television was on, set to sports, but not sports that Gavin cared about, so he tuned it out. There was more important things to think about, mainly concentrating on his own breathing and keeping it steady. Usually the prospect of being tucked up with Geoff was quite nice. This time it was entirely too nice in a way that had Gavin fighting not to grind his teeth. Geoff was warm and comfortable and had him entirely vulnerable. It seemed to be a recurring theme of the day, the Ramseys putting Gavin into positions where he had no choice but to take whatever they dished out. The both of them knew that Gavin was something of an enthusiast for that, being immobilized. That they were using it against him so thoroughly though, he wasn't as enthusiastic about that.

When Geoff's hand on his belly started to rub in slow circles, Gavin was still staring into the middle distance, not paying attention. He swatted at Geoff's hand without thinking, and for his troubles Geoff's hand did move, up against his neck, fingers tucking under his collar. Gavin's head fell back, so quickly, like he'd been trained into it. Which wasn't inaccurate.

"You," Geoff said into his ear slowly, "are a fucking wreck." He stroked slowly along Gavin's neck in what might've been meant to be a soothing manner but wasn't. At all.

"Thanks," Gavin muttered. "You're certainly helping there."

"Hey, I'm sympathetic." His free hand went back to petting Gavin, tucking up under his shirt, wide and warm. "I'm just also enjoying seeing you like this. Usually, you wanna get off, you get off. You don't let yourself get into a state." He bumped his nose against Gavin's ear, affectionate even as he tucked one finger under Gavin's jeans. "It's cool."

 _Cool_ , he thought. Gavin flailed to get a grip on Geoff, reaching behind him to clutch the man's shirt. Here he was, helpless, feeling himself slowly revving up, all this efforts to dispense that tight bundle of tension obviously for naught, and Geoff thought it was _cool_.

He was so fucked.

Gavin made a sound, strangled and desperate and tried to wiggle away. There was no where to go and as soon as his legs went lax again he was right back where he started. Geoff made a simpering noise, like it was just adorable how Gavin was trying to get away. The hand on his tummy undid his jeans, pushed down the zip, sliding down.

"Cheating," Gavin huffed. "Geoff, _please_ , that's--"

"Calm down, I'm not going to jerk you off." The hold on his neck tightened, tipping him further back until he was practically staring back over the sofa. "Just touching, shush."

His hand slid into Gavin's boxers and right over his dick. There was no grip to it, true, but just the light friction of Geoff's hands ran through him, along his spine. The problem was that Gavin loved Geoff's hands, and any other time would enjoy being trapped in this position. It was working for him and too well. His dick was getting hard, confined, and the familiar, often-welcome touch was going to set him off.

"Ge-- Geoff, shit."

"Right here," Geoff said into his ear. "I'm right here, it's okay."

Gavin's eyes fluttered shut and he sucked in a gasp of air as Geoff's hand squeezed him. Suddenly his inability to move was the only thing that saved him; he wanted to rocked up into that touch, but couldn't get anywhere. "Geoffrey, please, I-- Oh god, Geoff," Gain babbled as Geoff's hand continued to explore.

"You look so good like this though," Geoff told him. "I think I wanna see it, if you can get off just from this."

"I can. Oh fuck, I can, I will, but not this time, Geoff, _please_." He kept seeing those fucking shoes Michael sent him a picture of every time he shut his eyes

Geoff clicked his tongue. "Well... I _suppose_ if you found a better way to entertain me..."

One finger traced along his swelling dick and Gavin groaned. "I-- I can, just let me down, I will, please, please."

"Fine." Geoff's hand came out of Gavin's trousers. Gavin almost lost it, wanted to demand Geoff put his hand back. He was so sensitive it hurt, but Geoff still let him go, helped unhook Gavin's knees, and nudged him down.

Gavin slid, landing in a crouch. He felt entirely overwhelmed, face hot and skin prickling. For a moment, he just pressed his face to the seam of Geoff's trousers, trying to breathe through the shivery feeling. His toes kept curling, like he was close, like all it would take was him to relax and let it happen.

Geoff petted him, making more hushing noises. "You're shaking."

"Give me a second." It was right _there_ , waiting to happen. He couldn't even reach down and adjust himself. Fuck. He suddenly wanted the distraction right away and started pulling at Geoff's trousers, forcing them down just enough to get his dick out. He knee-walked in closer and started slow, mouthing at Geoff

He could hear above him the happy sigh Geoff let out, accompanied by nails running through his hair. "Good boy, that's it..." Gavin grunted, and Geoff laughed. "Yeah, take out your frustration on my cock. I'm okay with that."

Gavin rolled his eyes, but settled in for it, because it honestly helped. It was a bit annoying when he hear the telly, heard the channel changing and _for fuck's sake, Geoff_. Gavin opened his eyes, glaring up at him as he kept one hand on Gavin and surfed with the other on the remote.

Geoff noticed and smiled down at Gavin, cheeks flushed but expression otherwise doing nothing to telegraph that he was in the middle of getting blown. "You think you look really intimidating, but you've got my dick in your mouth, so." He shrugged.

"I hate you," Gavin said, pulling off for a moment.

"Uh huh. Finish me off and if you mouth off again, I'm going to put you over my knee and we'll see exactly how longer it takes for you to lose your bet. I'm betting thirty seconds." Gavin scrapped his teeth against the head. "Ow, asshole!"

That got him Geoff's hand on him again, pulling him down, and Gavin got back to work. He'd done this enough times that, well, it wasn't quite second nature, but he knew precisely how to work to get someone off at top speed. It was a talent with a good deal of practice behind it.

After, Gavin swallowed, then clicked his fingers at Geoff's drink until it was handed down to him. He took a long drink of it, and Geoff laughed. "Okay, so how is it that I feel like _I'm_ the one who just got used?"

"Christ, I feel like," Gavin braced himself on Geoff's knees, getting up unsteadily. "I don't even know. It's bloody intense though. You can't die from lack of orgasm, right?"

"I'm pretty sure you can't, no." Geoff patted the sofa next to him. "Lay down. No, don't give me that look," he said when Gavin did fire a suspicious glance at him. "No funny stuff. Lay down. Just think of it as aftercare."

"I'm fine though."

" _Gav_. Lay down."

Only because Geoff insisted, Gavin lay across the sofa, his legs dangling over the armrest as he head rest in Geoff's lap. Geoff didn't screw with him, just rested a hand on Gavin's chest, thumb rubbing slow circles.

It was... nice. It was a point of contact for Gavin to focus on, taking his mind off how his body felt. Fairly certain he wasn't going to wake up with anyone messing with him, Gavin shut his eyes and dozed.

 

* * *

 

Gavin took the collar off at dinner as an act of self-preservation. And just like that, the entire mood of the house changed. Griffon picked up some knitting and tucked up in the living room while Geoff tried to pull up a game on the PS3 only to be thwarted at every turn by system updates, then application updates, then finally game updates. That ended up being pretty fun to watch, as Geoff grew slowly more sarcastic and angry at the console. Gavin kept well out of his way, wanting to just enjoy the show, remaining curled up on the sofa with Angry Birds on his phone.

He left them in the living room to go to bed, tired and worn down from the day.

Somehow, laying in the dark by himself wasn't as much of a help as he had hoped. Stripping down only gave Gavin more of his own skin to look at, with all of its pores and tiny invisible lines stained with paint. It was not a calming thought, a strong reminder of Griffon on top of him with her goddamn brushes. How in the hell was _paint_ a turn-on?

Not wanting to see anything else, Gavin lay down on his stomach, arms tucked under his pillow. The sheet was down, mostly kicked off and tangled around his legs as a concession to the hot summer night. The window was open and the fan was on, circulating the air, and the mix of cool and hot was making him break out in gooseflesh.

"Oh no," Gavin muttered into the pillow. Without meaning to, he flexed, all of the muscles in his arms and legs going taut, and his breath hitched. The fucking friction of the _bed_ was setting him off.

It couldn't be something that made sense. No, he couldn't overhear the Ramseys shagging in the next room or be fixated on something like how Michael would have fallen to pieces for him in the shower if he hadn't elected to be an arse instead.

Not calming thoughts. Not even _remotely_ calming thoughts.

He'd spent his entire day, from the moment Griffon had woken him up onward, trying to keep his head. In bed, he was mentally exhausted and felt at odds with himself. There was every reason for him to not do it, but Gavin rubbed his face into the bed, spread his legs and pushed down, stretching out. Even that just felt good, like finally scratching an itch.

Stupid, stupid. He was such a stupid shit, the _worst_ possible thing he could do was this: rocking slowly against the bed, bracing himself, trying to find the right pressure against the mattress. His mind flicked around through a vault of material, thinking of thrusting into a willing mouth and how perfect it'd feel right then, how he'd come and just _unravel_ , all the tension in his mind and body gone. At this point, after so much effort and restraint, it'd be amazing, he just knew it. Best orgasm of his life, probably.

If he just gave in and let himself get off. He was half there, gasping quietly in the dark, listening to the whisper of skin again bed linens.

He grabbed his headboard, circling his hips, so fucking _fucked_ , destined for a fucking maid outfit and so past giving a shit. He'd take the forfeit and Michael would have a lovely night and Gavin would get off.

His iPhone beeped, lighting up.

Gavin froze, stuttering to a halt. His head whipped to the side, staring at it.

"Fuck." Gavin bit his lip, hard. "Oh, fucking bollocks." It took all his willpower to flip over, onto his back, and then to keep his hands away from his cock. "Okay. Pick up the phone. That's all. Phone. Right."

He reached out blindly and found it, lifting it to see the screen. A text from Michael was waiting for him.

_How was your day with Geoff and Griffon? :)_

The little pissant thought he'd already won. Gavin snorted and started to type, then changed his mind. He leaned up to flip on his bedside lamp then laid back, holding the phone up so he could get a good picture.

Two minutes later, the phone rang and when Gavin put it to his ear, Michael asked, "What the fuck happened to you?"

"Griffon. Griffon and wood paint."

Michael barked a laugh. "Wow, that's... is that going to fade by Monday?"

"I haven't the foggiest." Gavin found himself smiling, and tried not to think about how Michael's voice alone could lift his mood. "Looks cool though. I think she and Geoff want me to get tats."

"What?"

He sighed and said more clearly. "Tattoos. What's that in the background?"

"Oh, Lindsay and Barbara are stealing my fucking TV to watch that vampire soft-core porn show. It's awful, but there's a lot of sex." Gavin made a winded noise, throwing an arm over his eyes. "What? What was _that_ , Gavin?"

"Please don't talk about sex. Be a nice boy, Michael."

"I am thinking about fucking narrating this show to you." His voice got distant. "Lindsay, fast forward to some hot vampire dicking."

"I _will_ hang up on you," Gavin promised with a grin.

"Now who's not being a nice boy? So the bet's still on?"

"Yes, Michael. Hold off on your shopping spree."

"I am going to have your legs in fucking stockings and garters."

"They're called suspenders."

"No, they're not. Shut up, stop ruining words."

It was always so easy, this thread between them. Even halfway across the city, it felt like Gavin was right there with him watching crap telly. Simple things.

"Thanks," Gavin murmured. "This helped."

"Not my intention, believe me," Michael snapped back, acerbic. Then, voice gentling, "One more day. Get some sleep, Gavin." He could hear the smirk suddenly. "Or were you calling for phone sex?"

"Good _night_ , Michael." Gavin waited on the line until it ended on the other side, then tossed the phone aside again. He stayed on his back, closing his eyes, hanging onto the lingering sense of peace the quick phonecall had given him until he fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

The day started with Geoff singing " _It's the final countdown! Da na-na na! Da na-na-na-na!_ " as he made breakfast. That he burst into song only when Gavin wandered into the kitchen was not lost on Gavin, who shot him a horrified look before scurrying away again.

He was safe, obviously. His collar was laying innocently across the coffee table in the living room where he'd left it, and the rules were the rules still. No one made a move to put it on him and he didn't volunteer. If there was a slightly terrifying vibe to how their eyes tracked his movements around the house, that was fine. The rules kept him safe.

Gavin was aware this was the coward's tactic, though. And while everyone seemed to think he was _that guy_ , he wasn't, thanks. Discretion was the better part of valor, no doubt, but he wasn't about to wuss out on the last day of the bet. Especially not when Geoff and Griffon clearly had a plan in mind for him. They were almost out of time, so it would have to be the best they could throw at him. Their best was worth the risk.

Just not right away.

He took his time, spending a leisurely afternoon on the porch, soaking up the sun. Sunshine tea and EDGE Magazine were a good way to kill a few hours. Napping like a cat in a sunbeam helped as well. It was, for Gavin, what yoga probably was to other people. Centered and recharged, he wandered back inside and buckled himself up, clipping the leash on, and standing there with his hands on his hips.

Griffon looked up from her book, eyebrow arched. "Sweetie. Is that a challenge?"

"No," Gavin said, and sauntered over to her. He knelt down at her feet and rested his arms across her lap, laying his chin on them. "It's a green light."

Griffon smiles, and pet him for a moment. "Sure now?"

"Completely."

"All right then." Her hand caught his lead, and when she stood, he had to follow, up to his feet. "Husband of mine," she called. "Get that roast in and then get in the bedroom."

"I'm searing it! Be there in a sec!" Geoff shouted back.

"We don't have to wait." She tugged him along, down the hallway. "Come on."

Griffon put him on the bed and started stripping him. Whenever he moved to help, she batted his hands away. It was a little thing, but Gavin had learned to pick up on that. Sometimes he was allowed to touch, to take initiative. Sometimes, he was there to be taken care of. And other times, he was a tool to be used. He could suss out which this was just by how Griffon directed him.

When he was naked, she had him kneel on the bed as she got her own clothes off, tossing them into the pile. There was no need to make things any harder for himself; Gavin dropped his gaze to the bed, not wanting to watch. He was going to do this, and he knew already it was going to be rough. No need to notch up the difficulty when the Ramseys were involved.

Geoff finally made his way in and without a word started stripping as well. There was no further talking, any communication going on either that silent married couple kind or having been handled beforehand. There had definitely been some explicit planning done, Gavin could tell. It was too precise, how they moved together around him. Geoff climbed up behind him at the same moment that Griffon pressed into his front.

Gavin let his head hang down and breathed slowly. His afternoon of relaxation was well-spent; he didn't so much as twitch when he was touched. Geoff's fingers pressed along his scalp, dragging down to his neck while Griffon's nail scratched over the fuzz of Gavin's belly.

"Did you paint him like a Pride parade on purpose?" Geoff asked as his hands framed Gavin's neck and massaged his shoulders. His hands were ever amazing and Gavin hummed as his muscles were kneaded.

"No, that just sort of happened." Her fingers dipped into the crease of his hips, tracing them up and back. It was a very ticklish point and Gavin bit his lip in his efforts to not giggle. "Don't like it?"

"Didn't say that." He was pulled back against Geoff, steadied against his chest as Geoff's hand traced the line of his jaw, then the bow of his lips. Gavin kissed his fingers, trying to play nice. Geoff pushed his lips apart though, and Gavin opened his mouth, two fingers immediately pushing in and pressing down on his tongue. It was awkward, and it gave Geoff a very good hold on Gavin. He only had to nudge and Gavin's head tipped back.

It was a surprise when Geoff kept him like that, leading him with his mouth. Gavin hesitated, then started to suck at Geoff's fingers. He felt the pleased rumble behind him more than he heard the low, "Good boy." It had Gavin breathing through his nose, fucking with his carefully maintained calm.

Griffon leaned in to kiss the vulnerable stretch of Gavin's neck. "For your birthday, I think we're going to paint Gav's lips and get him to blow you."

"You're so thoughtful." Leaning around Gavin, Geoff caught Griffon's lips and kissed her. She made a longing sound and pressed up against Gavin, getting closer. Her hands continued to tease him, and it was a strange dissonant feeling, to have the Ramseys absorbed in each other so thoroughly while their attentions sank into him. It was easier that way, with the slight impersonal tone to it.

But all the extra details and aid couldn't keep him from shuddering and groaning when Geoff's other hand slide into him, stretching him. As he working his slick fingers up into Gavin's arse, Griffon ripped open a condom and rolled it on him, her fingers tight around the base of his dick the only thing that kept him from losing it.

Oh god. He was so screwed it wasn't even funny. He was going to die. _Here lies Gavin, fucked into oblivion._

He bit down on Geoff's fingers and made a noise, and Geoff removed them, thank fuck. Gavin gasped, feeling his heart starting to race and trying to get a hold of himself. He'd had it before, had control before Geoff put his goddamn fingers in his mouth and messed it up. Now, Gavin was grasping for that composure again, even though it was going to be a Herculean task. Or maybe Sisyphean. Something Greek and balls hard, basically.

Geoff was still scissoring his fingers inside of Gavin when Griffon took hold of Gavin's shoulder and his dick and put him inside her. Gavin's head fell back on a wordless yell as she slide down, down, all the way down onto his cock. The glide was so smooth and she was so fucking _hot_ inside he could barely think.

"That's it," she said. "Oh, _fuck_ , that's it, sweetie." She caught him with his leash fisted in her hand, pulling him in. Her mouth pressed to his, but he couldn't figure out how to kiss back and not fall to pieces at the same time. She was a flexible woman and was working her hips against him, in complete control of him inside her.

When Geoff pushed in, though, that's when Gavin's brain just gave in. He groaned, hoarse and loud, then couldn't stop gasping, trying to catch his breath again. Being sandwiched between them was so exquisite it hurt. Everything was so close and so hot and wet that Gavin couldn't make sense of it.

He could do this. He could.

Gavin took a deep breath in and held it as Geoff seated himself deep inside.

He breathed out while Griffon wrapped her arm around his neck, pressing flush to him. She kissed Geoff again, over Gavin's shoulder.

Good. Again.

He breathed in and held it, focusing only on his task. There was plenty going on around him and to him, but Gavin just shut his eyes and breathed, counting it out in his head each time.

Somehow, that worked. It worked so much, after a while he felt like he'd unhooked from his own body. Being fucked from both sides, it didn't matter, and he could _feel_ it, sure, but it didn't mean anything. He was warm and safe, and he was going to keep breathing until Geoff and Griffon got theirs, and then he'd be fine. Probably take a fucking nap as reward for a job well done.

It was like his mind had gone on a walkabout. He was there, but he was so calm. He'd never felt so calm in his entire life. It would have bothered him if he wasn't busy being ridiculously calm.

Gavin leaned forward, resting his head on Griffon's shoulder. He felt her slow down, her hand curling around his neck. "Gavin?"

He hummed at her. "Mm. M'fine. Keep going."

And he was. He felt perfectly all right. It was even nicer when Griffon and Geoff started to pet him. Suddenly, all the attention they'd given each other refocused on him. It was lovely, to have his neck rubbed, hands petting down his sides, and two distinct and loved voices in his ears, telling him how good he was.

Like he didn't already know it. He was _amazing_ , thanks for noticing.

He didn't even catch it when they got theirs. Gavin just knew that he was untangled from the Ramseys and laid down on his back in the middle of the bed.

Geoff, as he was wont to do after getting off, collapsed down next to Gavin. With some effort, he rolled onto his side to stare at Gavin. "Is he broken? Did we break him?"

Gavin smiled at him. "I'm _fine_."

Griffon lay down, half on top of Gavin, watching him carefully. It was strange to see her so serious when her face was flushed and sweat was shining over her skin. "How do you feel?"

"Good," Gavin answered. "Just.... calm."

"Oh god, we broke him," Geoff said despairingly.

Griffon shook her head. "No. No, I think it's all right." She ran her fingers over his brow soothingly. "Gav, did you decide to just mentally tap out there?"

That sounded about right. Gavin nodded dreamily.

She smiled. "Okay. Geoff, stop worrying, he's fine. Just in his happy sub place." And if anything could confirm her suspicions, it was how Gavin rolled onto his side and nuzzled his face into the bed and Geoff's arm, smiling. "He might be there a while."

"Mmm," Gavin hummed. "Sleep..." It was an extreme feat, to open one eye and look at them. "Stay here?"

Geoff brushed a kiss against his forehead. "Yeah, Gav. We'll stay here."

"Ta," Gavin mumbled, and relaxed into a well-deserved nap.

 

* * *

 

Gavin woke up when the oven timer rang, and he felt _awful_.

Whatever sideways thing his brain had slipped into, that had been excellent, he'd quite liked that. But in the wake of it, he woke up having been basically put away wet and all of his muscles ached from the scene he'd put himself through. When he heard Griffon call him for dinner, Gavin just lay there, tired.

His hands also hurt. Gavin lifted one to look at and found that the fleshy bit at the heel of his palm was now adorned with deep half-circles, almost deep enough to cut the skin. Experimenting, he made a fist and found that his fingernails lined up with each mark. It stung as well, even that light pressure.

He must've clenched his fists too much. He hadn't really paying that much attention to his body in the midst of things, to tell the truth.

Gavin didn't know why, but he put his mouth to his hand, pressing the tender skin against his mouth. It lit up with pain, predictably enough. Carefully, he ran his tongue over the little marks, hissing at the sensation. It hurt, but it was like picking at an old wound, that satisfying feeling that came with just feeling something new.

Licking his wounds in a literal sense was surprisingly engrossing. Gavin swept his tongue over the marks again, pressing hard, then soothed over the area with his lips. It was a sensation other that crushing sexual frustration, so Gavin latched onto it.

He entirely forgot about dinner until Griffon leaned in the doorway. "Gavin, it's-- what are you doing?"

Gavin froze, feeling like he'd gotten caught doing something naughty, though that was ridiculous. "Nothing."

Griffon walked over to the bed and looked at him. "As interesting at this is, I'm fairly sure that's against the rules."

Gavin stared at her. "What rules? Our rules?"

"No, your bet rules. No touching yourself, right?"

Somehow, that was it. Somehow, _that_ was what did it. That was the towel being thrown in, but that implied Gavin felt like he failed or lost. No, that wasn't it at all. Suddenly, with bright blinding clarity, he realized how much he didn't give a shit about this bet and if people thought he was a nymphomaniac. He didn't have sodding _anything_ to prove about it.

Gavin sat up and went for his clothes on the floor. "I need to get to Michael's."

Griffon frowned. "What?"

"I need to see Michael. You're going to the Fort tonight, right? Drop me off?"

"I can do that. Are you all right?"

"I am fine. I am amazing, actually." He got his trousers on, then took off his collar, putting it and the leash in his pocket. "I am just completely through with this bloody bet."

"But..." Griffon looked utterly baffled. "You won. I mean, we tried our best and you didn't break. Congratulations."

It was shitty timing, that he realized how much he didn't care _after_. It was like he'd spent all his time and energy reaching the top of Everest only to realize that he wasn't a fan of mountains at all, really. "I know. But still. You'll take me."

She nodded. "Sure, sweetie. Can we eat first? It's pot roast."

Only a fool said no to Geoff's pot roast. "Yeah, all right."

First, pot roast. _Then_ , he would explain a few things to Michael Jones.

And then probably shag him silly.

He'd play it by ear.

 

* * *

 

Gavin had a key to Michael's apartment. He'd been given it only a few weeks into their relationship. It was dead useful to have a place so close to the office with full facilities and Gavin liked to hop over there. It always involved pestering Michael for the key, though, and eventually Michael answered by just throwing a single key at his head. "Here, asshole. Don't fucking lose it and if you prank me, I'll drown you in the pool."

So Gavin had a key. It ended up on his own keychain, hooked onto its own ring. For a while, Gavin had expected for Michael to ask for it back and wanted it to be ready to go. But Michael never asked and Gavin kept letting himself in, and they never talked about it but it was definitely a _thing_. One of the secrets about Michael Jones was that he was unfallingly traditional, he just went about it in weird ways.

Gavin let himself in, certain to make a lot of noise as he did. He threw his keys on the table, kicked the door shut behind him with a little more force than needed, and just make a loud nuisance of himself.

Michael walked out of the hall to stare at him. "Gavin? What are you doing here?"

"We need to talk," Gavin said shortly, and as soon as his shoes were off he cross over to Michael, planted a hand on his chest, and started to push him back down the hall. "Or, I'm going to talk and you're going to listen."

"What are you-- jesus!" Michael wasn't expecting it when Gavin shoved him down onto the bed, bouncing against the mattress.

"Here's the thing," Gavin said as he started to strip. Shirt off, trou dropped, done. He pulled at Michael's clothes next. "I have just had the worst weekend ever. I mean, it was fun, sure, but do you have _any idea_ what the bloody Ramsey family can do to you when they put their minds to it? Because I don't think you do."

"Gavin, Gavin, holy shit." Michael dug his hands into the bed to keep from sliding off as Gavin pulled his jeans off.

"I've come to a decision. Would you like to hear it?" He didn't actually give Michael time to answer, hauling him up by his shirt so he could pull it off him. The glasses got in the way, and Gavin took them, folding them up and putting them on the bedside table. "It's all right if you think I'm oversexed. You may even be right. But I don't care anymore, and even though I did survive the-- the sexual onslaught you sicced on me, I'm throwing the bet."

Michael just stared at him, shocked. "Um. Okay. Are you-- are you _mad_?"

"In the Yank sense? Nah." Gavin climbed up onto the bed and started to urge Michael up, laying him out properly. "In the actual English sense? Probably a bit." Once he got Michael where he wanted, he sat on his hips and pushed Michael's hands down against the bed above his head. Like this, he could stare right down into Michael's eyes. "Red or green?"

It clearly took a moment for Michael to figure out what he was being asked. "Uh. Green? Green."

"Excellent." Gavin put Michael's wrists against the headboard and set to tying them there. That was the wonderful thing about Griffon Ramsey's work-- it was sturdy. The braided leather of the leash was bendy and strong enough to hold Michael's wrists to the headboard.

Gavin watched as Michael watched what he was doing. His face turned red in the span of ten seconds, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. "Gavin?"

"Green?"

"Green."

"Good." Gavin tested the binds, found them not tight enough to hurt but perfect for keeping Michael right where Gavin wanted him. He took a moment to just enjoy that, running just the pads of his fingers along Michael's neck, tracing the line of his collarbone, circling one nipple until Michael broke eye contact, inhaling sharply. "Oh. Oh, little boy," Gavin said in a syrupy sweet tone. "Are you _nervous_ , little boy?"

"Well," Michael said tightly, looking at the lamp. "You did sort of knock down my door and tie me to the bed, Gavin."

Gavin took Michael's chin in his hand, turned him back to meet his eyes. "My Michael, I'd _never_ do anything to hurt you." He dipped down, kissing the corner of Michael's mouth before murmuring against his lips: "I might have to fuck you senseless though."

"Oh, god." Michael dropped his head back against the bed. Gavin smiled and nipped at his chin, then lower. He mouthed at the soft span of skin between Michael's neck and collarbone, going at it like a vampire, biting and sucking at the skin. He could feel the tension in Michael as he did, and ran his hands down, getting a feel for Michael like this, a little nervy and helpless. It did lovely things to him. "Oh fuck, a-are you putting a fucking hickey on me?"

Gavin poked the red mark with his tongue, watched Michael twitch. "Consolation prize."

"Christ, Gavin."

"Easy, boy," Gavin bumped his nose against Michael's. "I've got you."

Michael laughed, breathless. "I know. Sorry, I'm..."

Trying to be kind, and peripherally aware that not everyone was used to this sort of treatment like he was, Gavin laid small kisses across Michael's brow, over to his ear. "Trust me?"

"Yeah. Yeah, okay, yes." Michael turned his head, catching Gavin's lips.

For his presumption, Gavin pushed Michael's head back hard against the bed, driving his tongue into Michael's mouth, counting his teeth with his tongue and fighting with Michael's tongue when he tried to take some measure of control back. That wasn't the name of this game though, and Gavin bit his lower lip until Michael hissed and got the idea, subsiding and letting Gavin lead.

He kept on like that until Michael's mouth was even redder than usual, looking tender and bruised. He ghosted one more kiss against him before slipping away, getting what he needed from the bedside table.

Michael's eyes were wide as he watched Gavin with the lube, but when Gavin tried to get situationed between his legs, Michael moved to help. It wasn't as though Gavin had never fucked Michael before, but it was never like this.

The catch of breath in Michael's chest when Gavin pushed slick fingers into him was a _marvel_ , the way that simple thing ran through his whole body. The flush in his face spread down, across all his pale skin, right before Gavin's eyes. It was a delight to watch, and to push his fingers in that much harder to see how much _faster_ he could get it to go. Michael's whole body jerked when he got two fingers in, palm flat against his perineum, thrusting in deep. "Oh my god," Michael groaned, throwing his head back and pulling at his arms. "Oh shit."

Gavin beamed. "Look at you. You're a beauty like this, all pink and desperate."

Michael made a sound, low and almost upset. "Don't... fuck, don't say shit like that, Gavin, I can't..." Gavin put another finger in and Michael's whole body shook. "Oh christ!"

"Mm. You've done quite enough telling me what I _can't_ do this week, don't you think?"

Michael's heels dug into the bed as he tried to get the leverage to push down on Gavin's hand. Gavin let him for a moment, astonished at how Michael was just falling apart before his eyes and how much he was enjoying it. "Gavin, come _on_!"

Gavin put a hand on Michael's stomach, holding him still and pulling out his fingers just enough so Michael couldn't make good on any of his needy little hip movements. "Oh, I'm sorry, little boy. Is this _frustrating_ you?"

"Jesus," Michael said, and laughed hoarsely. "You are such a little shit."

Gavin pushed in again, enrapt by the way Michael's legs twitched. Did his do that when someone teased him like this? Usually he wasn't paying enough attention to notice. "If I wanted to even the score, I'd keep you like this for _hours_. Right here, where you can't do anything but feel yourself wind fucking tighter and tighter with every passing moment." All at once, he pulled his fingers away, grinning with delight as Michael cursed a blue streak.

He rolled a condom on, still talking in a level tone. It was strange, how collected he was about this. It was as though being double-fucked by the Ramseys and surviving had ascended him to a new level of zen-like calm. Achievement bloody unlocked. "But luckily for you, I haven't come in four days and I'm going to fuck you now."

"Fine, jesus, just hurry up." Michael's legs wrapped around him, eager, helping Gavin line up against him. "Come on, _come on_."

He really should have slowed down, made Michael ask nicely, but Gavin was past the point of caring about that. He pushed into Michael, rising up on his knees, his hands on Michael's hips to angle him just right. Michael shouted wordlessly, his legs locking up around Gavin, back arching. "Oh _fuck_."

That was the idea. Gavin groaned as he pushed all the way in. Michael was fucking tight even after being teased for so long, and hot enough to burn. The zen calm in Gavin fractured, all his pent-up lust and need for release crashing into him all at once. "Oh my god, that's..." He rocked in and out, barely moving, just wanting to hang onto that feeling until it drowned him. Panting, thrusting minimally, Gavin felt himself losing it and reached out to grab the headboard in an iron grip.

There was an unfocused look in Michael's eyes. He was watching Gavin, mouth open, gasping harshly every time Gavin pushed into him, but his arms kept flexing, pulling like he wanted his hands back. "Gavin. Gavin, come on, stop fucking around, _please_."

That please was the last straw. Gavin drew out slowly, the sensation so good he could barely stand it, and thrust back in. The entire bed moved from the force of it, the headboard knocking against the wall.

"Gav, Gavin, the neighbors--"

"Don't care, Michael, I don't--" Gavin wrapped his other hand around the headboard and started just powering into Michael with his whole body, hard and fast, over and over. The sound was tremendous, from the bed hitting the wall and creaking back on it's shoddy IKEA hinges to Michael's steady chanting of, "fuck, fuck, fuck," on every shocked exhale of breath that Gavin forced out of him, to Gavin's own cries.

If they got a noise complaint, that was fine by Gavin. He needed to do this, to take four days of slow torture and shake it from himself. His mind was wiped clear of anything except how bad he needed it, and he chased it down until his whole body ran hot in one rushing wave and he came, shouting with a frayed voice.

That was it. He was done. He'd come his brains out, and he slumped across Michael, entire body suddenly dead weight.

 _Goddamn_ , that had felt good. He kept shivering, his entire body tensing and releasing in waves, like aftershocks.

"Gavin..." Michael's voice reached him through his happy fog. "Gavin, wake the fuck up, at least untie me you piece of shit."

Right. Michael. Gavin lifted his head, its weight suddenly like a tonne of lead, and met his gaze. "Huh?"

Michael was still flushed. "Untie. Me."

Untie. Right, the leash. Gavin threw one hand up, tugging at the lead randomly until it started to loosen. As soon as it did, Michael worked his hands out of the loops and shoved his hands between them, jerking himself off roughly, biting his lips.

"Sorry," Gavin mumbled from where he lay, still stretched across Michael. He wasn't sure he could move. He tried, budging up his shoulders for a second being sagging back down, writing it off as a loss.

"It's fine," Michael said, voice rough. "You're just heavy."

"No. I mean..." Gavin stropped his face against Michael's chest, nuzzling in. "I sort of... got carried ‘way there, I think."

Michael laugh. "Oh my god. Gavin." He kissed Gavin's temple. "Feel free to get carried away more often."

Oh. Well, that was interesting. Gavin smiled, happy without a jot of tension left in his entire body. "You." He patted Michael's bicep weakly. "You're top."

Something about that made Michael snort. "So many jokes... Gavin. Go to sleep."

He couldn't argue with that. He had a big day ahead of him. Recording. Editing. Trying on dresses, probably.

 

* * *

 

Monday rolled in far before Gavin was ready for it. After working out all his frustrations on Michael, Gavin slept the sleep of the unjust-but-post-coital and was shaken awake ten hours later. "Hey, Aurora, time to wake up."

Gavin only listened and opened his eyes out of confusion. "A what now?"

"Aurora. Sleeping Beauty? Come on, get dressed, we're gonna be late."

And they were by a few minutes, though Geoff didn't say anything. He just looked at Gavin, eyebrows lifted as he took in the state of him. "Really?"

"Shut up," Gavin grumbled, collapsing into his chair.

To Michael, Geoff said, "I want pictures," then turned back to his desk.

Gavin sighed, sinking down low in his chair, trying not to sulk. He'd lost the bet quite spectacularly and in a baffling manner. It'd been vitally important when he shoved Michael done and fucked him, but in hindsight, if he'd held out for another two hours, he would've been in the clear.

Ah well. If Gavin was used to anything, it was shooting himself in the foot.

He spent the most of the morning trying to keep his sour mood out of the recordings with varying degrees of success. Being an arsehole in the games actually helped his mood, as few things were as delightful as making Jack or Michael scream at him in instinctive fury after he'd trolled them.

But the day was still a wash, even when Burnie took him out for midday waffles at lunchtime. Red velvet waffles failed to lift his mood and he slunk back to the AH office early, hoping to perhaps wrap up some editing early and then head home with Geoff or Michael, whoever finished their work first.

There was still five minutes in the lunch hour when Michael came in, dropping his bag on his chair. "Hey."

"Hullo," Gavin responded. "How was lunch with Geoffers?"

"Informative." Michael stood at next to Gavin's chair until Gavin finally looked up. "Did you really get double-teamed? And still survived?"

Gavin shrugged. It no longer seemed like a big deal. He knew there was a thing his brain could do that let him push through just about anything. It was interesting and he'd have to do some googling about it, but later, when his video was rendering.

Michael shook his head, breathing quietly, "Christ," before taking Gavin by the arm and pulling him to his feet. "Come on."

"What?"

Michael just reaffirmed his grip on Gavin and walked backward to the corner. "Keep up, Gavin." He moved a few things out of the way before boosting himself up onto Ray's desk, still dragging Gavin along. "Kiss me."

Gavin got it, finally, looking at Michael sitting on Ray's fucking desk with his head tipped back, licking his lips. "I... but I didn't win."

"I know. You threw the game." Michael fisted both hands in Gavin's shirt and hauled in him between his legs. "Fucking kiss me, Gavin."

He didn't need to be told a third time. Gavin planted his hands on the desk and leaned in, just nudging his lips to Michael's at first. It was chaste and sweet for a start, until Michael made a noise and opened his mouth, tongue following the curve of Gavin's lower lip. It was nice, that single point of contact between them, and how it slowly deepened. It was familiar and comfortable with the shape of each other and how they fit together. It was the sort of kiss Gavin could hold for ages, content to explore everything about Michael from this particular vantage point, like he could unlock every mystery about the man just by kissing him thoroughly enough.

He was so absorbed in it, he didn't know why Michael started to grin against his lips until he heard. "Whoa! Wow, um!"

Gavin jerked away, looking to the door where Ray stood, eyes wide. "Holy crap, that was..." He looked around, then behind him into the hallway. "Do you guys want me to get Lindsay?"

Michael's face flattened out. "Lindsay?"

"Yeah, like... she films most of the RT Lifes, right?" Ray rubbed the back of his neck and didn't seem able to look right at them. "I mean, you guys making out, that's funny, but should've waited on the camera to arrive. Rookie mistake."

Gavin opened his mouth, then shut it, then managed to croak out, "What?"

"I'll go get her. Though, could you guys do that one someone else's desk? Unless--" He suddenly surveyed the room again, squinting. "Is that the joke? Aw, did I fuck it up? Where's the camera?"

"You think... we're doing a video right now?" Gavin asked.

"Yeah? Why else would you be macking on my desk?"

Michael shut his eyes tightly, muttering, "Holy shit," under his breath before looking at Ray again. "Ray. _Why else would we be macking on your desk_?"

Ray frowned, contemplative for a moment, then shrugged.

Gavin stepped away, holding up his hands. "That's it. I'm done. I give up."

"Yeah," Michael agreed, sounding pained. "I mean, I warned you about this." He hopped off the desk and returned to his own, shaking his head.

Ray watching them, brow furrowed. "I'm missing something."

Gavin nodded. "Yes, Ray. Yes." Maybe he'd work it out. Maybe he'd put the subtle clues together and discover the well-hidden truth veiled from his sight.

Or not. Ray just went to his chair and booted up his computer. "I'll wait for the RT Life to come out. I bet it'll be hilarious."

Michael's head fell forward onto the desk as he moaned, distraught.

Gavin laid a hand on his arm, rubbing. "So does this mean the maid outfit's off?"

"Not even a little, Gavin."

"Damn," Gavin muttered and returned to his desk. Couldn't say he didn't try.

Anyway. In the end, Gavin blamed Ray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emily: gavin free is a sponge  
> he'll take what everyone dishes out until he reaches the point where he can't soak up anything else  
> and then he'll wring himself out all over your new pants  
> Lucy: .... that's it, that's the fic.
> 
>  
> 
> ((NEXT UP: "you know that I would love to see you (in that dress)". Though first I'll be writing an RT-Avengers fusion fic.))


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